


Rest, Weary Traveller [Trevor x Reader]

by AuburnSticks



Category: Grand Theft Auto Series (Video Games), Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Manipulation, F/F, F/M, Felching, GTA Universe, Multi, Recreational Drug Use, Red Dead Redemption 2 Spoilers, Red Dead Redemption Universe, Slow Burn, Snowballing, Threesome - F/M/M, bisexual reader, mature - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:55:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 52,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28967922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuburnSticks/pseuds/AuburnSticks
Summary: You're a long way from home. After weeks of travelling across the country via Greyhounds and hitchhiking, you've finally made it to the big city. Los Santos, SA, where dreams come true and anybody with a skirt can make it in Vinewood so long as they have the right connections.You're there to see the ocean and to try to enjoy life more. After all, you only have one life to live, right? Living in West Grizzlies, Ambarino has been nothing short of cold and miserable all your life, and sandy, sunny Los Santos is paradise on earth from what you've heard.The problem? Your cash stash has run out right as you reached the city. You'll need to find a solution-- and fast.This series is additionally posted on Wattpad under the user AuburnSticks and will be updated around the same time.
Relationships: Michael De Santa/Trevor Philips, Michael De Santa/You, Original Female Character/You, Trevor Philips/Reader, Trevor Philips/You
Comments: 31
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter One

_I finally made it. Los Santos,_ you thought to yourself with pride. Some hippy-dippy farmer agreed to let you on the back of her blue, rusty Yosemite truck as she made her way to the organic farmers' market. You went slack-jawed as the cloud-touching buildings faded into view. You peered into the back window of her truck; she wasn't paying any attention to you. You took a few oranges and tossed them into your backpack.

You didn't want to admit it, but you were low on money; there was only $25 to your name. At the beginning of your trip, you had nearly $2,000. _Where did I go wrong...? Oh, yeah. The souvenirs._ You sheepishly glanced at your backpack, which had dozens of keychains picturing various cities hanging off every zipper. _Don't forget the assload of money I had to pay for a new phone and phone plan,_ you thought with a grimace. Your previous cell plan only happened to cover the western portion of Ambarino ( _Good ol' AM.)_ and none of the other states. You'd dropped your phone in a gas station toilet two hours after upgrading. 

As if your phone knew you were bitterly reminiscing, it lit up with a notification. It was from one of your few friends back in AM, a girl your age named Gabi. Sighing, you opened it. 

_hey, [Y/N]! you warming up yet?? im so fuckin jealous of you :(( lucky duck.._

You let out a bitter laugh.

_my dude, if u only knew the half of it LOL, u should totally send me a little bit of cash if u can. im on my last $25. ill get u a souvenir or smth i promise... <3_

She left you on read; after several minutes of no reply, you figured she didn't want to give you any money. You couldn't blame her; who would want to send money to a friend on a journey they didn't have the balls to go on? The truck came to a stop and the farmer hopped out of the truck. 

"I'm afraid this is my stop, kid," she said. 

"Thank you for the ride, ma'am. I really appreciate it," you said meaningfully. You nodded your head to her and went on your way. 

This part of town didn't seem the safest, but hey, at least it wasn't 2°F out here. You began walking across a huge bridge with more lanes of traffic than you could ever have seen back home in AM. The more you walked, the heavier your backpack felt. The west coast heat seemed to pile on quadruple the weight you were carrying. Beads of sweat trickled down your face by the time you made it off the bridge. To your left, there was a crusty-looking old factory with the rusty words DARNELL BROS standing at the top of it, peering down at you. You began to walk that direction when you noticed there was a space under the bridge. _Shade._

Once you made it to the underside of the bridge, you slumped down to catch a breath. The shade may not have been nearly as cold as you were used to, but it was at least 10° cooler beneath the hulking mass of concrete. As soon as you were cooled off enough, you began looking at the details in your surroundings: the roof and walls were littered in graffiti, and there was a dumpster several feet away from you with an unpleasant aroma. You tried to remember the last time you'd had a proper shower in running water; the closest you'd gotten to it had been a week ago when you bathed in a river. Grimacing, you continued to look around, still hardly able to fathom you were finally in the place you'd been going to for so long. 

Then, you saw it. 

A delivery van beneath a tarp. A GoPostal Boxville, to be exact. 

Curious as to what a van like that was doing beneath a bridge, of all places, you got up with your bag and made your way over to it. The tarp was only partially covering the van; you recognized the logo easily. You lifted the tarp over you and began making your way to the back doors of the vehicle. To your surprise, the door was slightly ajar. Your curiosity deepened and you slipped into the van. _Fuck, it's nice and cool in here,_ you thought to yourself as you peered around. You'd never seen the inside of a van like this; to your surprise, there was only one box, a crate that was roughly 4x4x4 and also covered by a tarp.

Grateful for the extra cool temperature, you snuggled beside the crate and swiped the tarp off to use as a blanket. _Man, I haven't had a good sleep for a long time now,_ you realized as your eyelids began to droop. You put your earbuds in and began playing some Johnny Cash as you drifted to dreamland. 

You awoke to a start by your head being slammed against the crate, then sliding across the floor of the van. _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!_ you thought in a panic as you ripped your earbuds out. You let out a yelp of pain as somebody stomped on your arm.

"What the fuck!" a gruff voice shouted, sounding almost as surprised as you were. The tarp was snatched from the top of you. The middle-aged man holding the tarp had deep-set brown eyes, furrowed brows, a mullet ( _Balding at the top?)_ and blood-stained clothes. _Oh, God. Oh, God fucking damnit. This maniac's gonna kill me,_ you thought, fighting every urge in your body to scream in fear. 

The man stood shocked for a second, mouth dangling open. The emotions behind his eyes seemed to change faster than you could keep up with; first, it was surprise, then it was anger. Then... then, you couldn't quite place what he was feeling. He began to chuckle, then burst into laughter, bending down to slap his knee.

"Oh... woo- _whee!_ Hey, M! F! I was gonna get the artillery out, but you'll... you'll _never-never-never-never-never,_ not in a million years, guess what I found?" _MF? Is he calling me a motherfucker and talking to himself?_ You wondered before realizing somebody must be driving this thing. What sounded like police sirens steadily got louder. 

"Lemme guess, T. You found a piece of your sanity back there?" a man's voice sounded from the stranger's phone. 

"Oh, you wish! No, it seems we have a little stowaway..." The man, T, began looking you up and down. You squirmed, uncomfortable at the thought of this guy, who was quite possibly kidnapping you, envisioning you naked. "Are you the entertainment I ordered?" he giggled. His joy quickly turned to anger. "Oh, no! Fuck you, Michael! Not another FIB agent! You and your stupid little secrets! Fuck! _Youuuu!_ " He was nearly frothing at the mouth, and quickly whipped a knife out of his pocket. "Oh, I'm gonna get your tits taxidermied and hung on my front porch," T sneered.

"T, what in the fresh fuck are you talking about? You know he's done with all that bullshit," a man's voice, different from the previous one, said from T's phone. T grabbed you by the scruff of your shirt, quickly glancing down it to your discomfort, then took his knife and held it to your throat.

"Why are you here, doll?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. 

"I... I was just trying to find a cool-ish place to sleep! I don't live anywhere near here, I hitchhiked my way across the country, Honest-to-God truth," you told him, struggling to keep your voice from betraying your fear of T slitting your throat. He narrowed his eyes further and continued to stare into yours before letting your shirt go, causing you to fall to the floor on your butt. "My tailbone," you grunted. 

"Tough tweedle-fuckin' luck, hobo!" T declared in a falsetto voice.

"Trevor, do you not hear the sirens right behind us!?" a voice, the first man you'd heard, yelled over the phone. You could almost hear his voice in-person; you then put the pieces together and realized he must be in the front of the van along with the other guy. "Come on, do... do your thing and take care of the heat while Frank gets us outta here!"

"Oh, well, if _Franklin's_ so _great_ , why doesn't he just drive away while I stick my thumbs up my asshole? He can do it himself," Trevor snarled over the phone as he opened the crate you'd been sleeping beside. Trevor glanced at you. "You know how to fire a gun?"

"Uhh, yeah," you responded, surprised he'd trust somebody he'd just met with a weapon like that. He pulled a micro SMG out of the crate and handed it to you.

"Uhh," he began, mocking you, "Then you're gonna help me slaughter these piggies." He took a gun for himself out of the crate, then pushed it against the doors. You almost instinctively crouched behind them. He slipped a ski mask onto his face and tossed one over to you. Putting it on, you gave a nervous swallow. He reached forward and unlatched the doors and they swung open. Hot, muggy daylight filtered into the van as red and blue lights bounced around in the metallic interior. You took a breath, praying to whatever was out there it wouldn't be your last, and squeezed the trigger. You were mainly aiming for the tires. After what felt like an eternity, the two of you managed to make all the cops following you spin out as you sped into the countryside of San Andreas. 

The Boxville finally pulled over to a stop, and two men walked over to the back of the van. One was a middle-aged white guy. He was slightly overweight, and his eyes were a strikingly handsome blue. The other was a young broad-shouldered black man with a pleasantly toned body. They were both grinning and the three exchanged high fives.

"We did it! We did it! Not as big as the U.D., by any means, but fuckin-A, it felt good," the white guy exclaimed.

"I mean, yeah, we did it, but who's this?" the black guy asked.

"Oh, oh yeah, she was sleeping in the back of the van and helped me gun all those piggies down," Trevor said with pride. 

"Okay, what the hell is going on here?!" you exclaimed. The three went silent. "Who are you guys, and why did you kidnap me and make me have a bunch of cops spin out?!" The three wearily exchanged glances. Trevor nodded at the two.

"Well, I'm Michael," the white guy, Michael, explained, "and that's Franklin. We didn't kidnap you. If you want to get technical, you illegally got onto the truck... that we illegally stole..."

"Huh. I guess those cancel each other out," Franklin chuckled. "Seems you were there fair and square."

"Yanno, you did pretty good back there. We could use you," Trevor said, "in every sense of the term. What's your name and are you of legal age?"

"My name's [Y/N] and I'm [Y/A]," you told them, still slightly confused and trying to process what just happened. 

"Give us your phone and we'll put our numbers in," Michael said to you. You gave it to them and they all passed it around. Michael then climbed into the van for a moment, then climbed out with a wad of cash. "It's three grand. For your efforts."

"Hey, you said you were hitchhiking, right?" Trevor inquired slyly, swaying his body as his hands were behind his back. "I have a place you could stay as _long_ as you wanted. My bed."

"Man, fuck you! That's awful," Franklin muttered to Trevor, shaking his head in disdain. "Hey, [Y/N], as a thank-you, I have a spare bedroom at my place you can crash at for a little while if you want to. Not in a creepy way or anything like this dude." 

"Oh, Frankie, _baby!_ I'm not being creepy. Don't insult my hospitality," Trevor retorted. He looked back at you. "So, what'll it be? My place or my place?"

"I'll stay at Franklin's, if that's okay," you decided. "I'd hate to take up space in your bed, and seeing as Franklin has an extra one..."

"Oh, no! No, no, no, no, no, no, no... that's not what I _meant_ , sugartits! I'll sleep on the couch if you want me to! Fuck, I'll even sleep outside! Please?" Trevor begged you. It was kind of sad to you, honestly. 

"No, man, you're making the right choice. You don't want to stay in that cockroach-ass-lookin' trailer," Franklin laughed.

"Hey! That's my home you're talking about!" Trevor screamed, raising a fist before forcing himself to put it back down. 

"It's nothing personal," you reassured Trevor. "It would just be really nice to sleep in a room by myself."

"Yeah, plus my car's right over here," Franklin said. Together, the two of you got into his car and began driving away while Trevor watched, slumped and defeated.


	2. Chapter Two

The ride began with an awkward silence. Franklin flipped on the radio, which was tuned into Radio Los Santos. You turned to him and said, "Y'all only just met me like, twenty minutes ago. Why are you letting me move into your house?"

"Whoa. First off, I'm _not_ letting you move into my house. I'm just giving you a place to stay until you have enough money to rent a place. Least I can do for you after helping us out."

"Wh-- rent a place?" You asked. Why shouldn't I just get a hotel room?"

"All the affordable hotels are nastier than a motherfucker and the decent hotels are more expensive to rent than they're worth," he replied with a shrug, not taking his eyes off the road. "Besides, you don't have that much money. I'm guessing three grand, give or take, because before we gave you that money, you were sleeping in a mail van. You're gonna have to take a pretty long vacation here before you can afford to travel back to wherever you came from."

"Well, you're not wrong there," you sighed. "How old are you?"

"27. Why?" Franklin asked, finally taking his eyes off the road and giving you an inquisitive look. 

"How in the hell did a 27 year old end running around with two fifty year olds, one of which is in major need of some tranqs and the other which looks like an overworked CEO?" you chuckled.

"You've actually got those roles reversed. Trevor's a CEO of, well, his drug trafficking 'company', and Michael's family gives him enough of a headache he'd probably be better off sleeping all the time," he replied with a warm smile. "Michael actually met me through a job I was doing and... well, it's a long story. We work well together and co-invest in some good opportunities." 

"Good opportunities involving shootouts with cops in a van going 100 miles an hour?"

"Exactly, [Y/N]. You're beginning to get it!" As he finished his sentence, Franklin pulled into the driveway of a gorgeous house in the finer part of Vinewood Hills.

"No, this can't be your house," you breathed. "Nobody alive could afford a beauty like this..."

"Guess again," he laughed. "Those good opportunities I was talking about paid for this crib." You walked into house as Franklin held the door open for you, and a beefy Rottweiler came running up to you. "It's okay, Chop!"

"Oh, my goodness! Your name's Chop, huh? We're gonna get along real well," you cooed as you knelt down to accept the dog's curious sniffs and kisses. You gave him a scratch behind the ear and he began shaking his hind leg as if scratching an itch. As soon as you were finished being showered with the canine's affection, you stood up and ran your fingers through greasy [H/C] hair. "I don't want to overstay my welcome, but do you have a shower? And a washing machine, if you have one. There's not an abundance of those around when you're hitchhiking and Greyhounding your way around."

"Oh, for sure. The guest bedroom is downstairs, first door to your left. I think it's locked, so I'll go down with you." You followed Franklin downstairs and he fiddled with his keys until he found the right one. "There you go. Bathroom and laundry room are across the hallway from you. I'll leave you alone. Holler if you need anythin'." With that, Franklin made his way up the stairs. 

You immediately beelined for the bathroom. You fiddled with the shower until you understood how the gauges worked. You let your mind run as you got undressed and prepared yourself for the shower. _He seems like a nice, genuine guy. I can't believe he lives here all by himself. Well, him and Chop. Does he even have a girlfriend?_ You wondered, beginning to think sinful thoughts about the handsome, muscular man. You shook your head. _He probably does. There was no opportunity to mention her when we were talking, she wouldn't have been relevant._

You threw your dirty clothes into the washing machine and stepped into the shower with some soaps and hair washes you nicked from a motel, grateful to feel the soft, warm water trickle down your body. You vigorously scrubbed yourself from head to toe; personal hygiene was a pillar of your life and going without daily care wreaked havoc on your self-confidence. You ended up dumping two bottles of shampoo and three of conditioner on your hair and shaved everything but your head. You also brushed your teeth in the shower as a force of habit.

After about twenty minutes passed, you got out of the shower, opening the cupboard to grab a towel. As you dried yourself off in the mirror, you noticed a charging port for an electric razor. _Weird for a guest bathroom,_ you pondered to yourself. You went over to it and picked it up, examining it. The razor refused to detach from the port, and it took quite a lot of yanking and smacking against the counter to pull the device apart. There was no ending or beginning of the razor and port; they were connected by intricate wires. Further confused by this, you continued looking at the razor only to realize there was a camera lens in the middle of it. You gasped in shock and pulled the towel extra close to you.

Hurriedly, you took the one clean set of clothes you had from your bag; you were saving it for when you got to Los Santos. Furious, you grabbed the camera and marched your way upstairs. You were so angry, you didn't even bother putting on a spot of makeup like you usually did when interacting with other people. 

"What the _fuck_ , man! You're a sick creep!" you screamed at Franklin, who turned around with a surprised look on his face.

"Hey, hey! What the hell are you talking about, [Y/N]? You can't just run around sayin' that unfounded, it gives people the wrong ideas about a guy," he said with a frown and furrowed brows. He got up from his couch and began slowly walking towards you with his hands up.

"I'm talking about this!" you snarled, throwing the device to his feet. He picked it up, trying to figure out what it was. 

"What the fuck is this? A razor? What's so creepy about a goddamn razor?" There was genuine confusion across his face as he tried to solve the puzzle.

"It's not a razor, it's a camera. Not that you wouldn't know," you spat, feeling sick to your stomach that you were now inevitably on some perverted dark web site for all to gawk at.

"What the fuck? A _camera?_ " Franklin turned it over, mouth open in shock and disgust. He narrowed his eyes and continued to study it until he let out a hard exhale and said, "Man, Lester, what the fuck are you trying to do? Hold on, [Y/N], please don't leave. I'm gonna fix this, I'm just as confused as you are."

"What? Who's Lester?" you asked, your anger fading away and being replaced by confusion. Just when you thought you had these people figured out, there seemed to be another twist. 

Franklin held his finger up and began to dial a number. "You'll see here in a second." The phone rang several times before a nasally man's voice sounded on the other end.

"Franklin. What do you want?" the voice asked.

"Lester, man, I wanna know why the fuck there's a camera in my guest bathroom and where all the other cameras in my house are!" he shouted, sending a chill down your spine. 

"Technically, the house _is_ in my name, Franklin. And the cameras are there to make sure I can track you should somebody get kidnapped," Lester responded in an ambivalent tone. 

"Yeah, the house may be in your name, but I fuckin' paid you off the books! You gotta let a man know if you're putting cameras in his house. And the bathrooms? _Really?_ What if I was walkin' around naked? I don't want your creepy ass staring at my dick! Tell me where they all are because I want them _gone_." Franklin growled.

"Alright, fine, fine!" Lester began describing the locations of each camera, and Franklin nearly charged to every spot to take them down. 

"One more thing," Franklin said once they'd finished taking down all the cameras, "Delete all the footage you got."

"Okay. Just of you, or can I keep that girl you had over for my spank bank--" Lester began. You began to feel your cheeks turn red in embarrassment and anger.

"All of it! Goodbye!" Franklin shouted before slamming the _end call_ button. "Shit's creepy. I don't like knowing that lame-ass motherfucker was looking at my goody package. Or yours," he hastily added. 

"I mean, it seems like we were both the victims in this situation. I don't blame you," you said in an awkward effort to comfort him. "Are you gonna tell your girlfriend?"

"What? Ha, I don't have a girlfriend," Franklin bitterly chuckled. "I wish!" _Well, that changes everything!_

"Oh," you stuttered in surprise. You raised an eyebrow and shuffled closer to him. "Well, then tell me the truth: What's the _real_ reason you offered me a place to crash?" You breathed. 

Franklin looked at you, gave a grin, and rubbed the back of his neck. "I think you're really cute, [Y/N], but the honest-to-God real reason I offered was to counter Trevor's offer. I haven't seen him all over a girl like that since he kidnapped a drug lord's wife who got all Stockholm-y," he said. "I don't want my ear cut off like he did with Madrazo. Nothing against you, I just really like my ears. Both of 'em. I didn't want him scaring you away; you could definitely be a real valuable asset on some of our jobs." 

You backed up, feeling foolish for misreading the room so terribly. "Oh God, I feel stupid now," you said.

"Don't worry about it; no harm done. That and Trevor lives in a radioactive dump of a trailer. You'd be better off staying in a garbage can. Or a mail truck, for that matter," Franklin snorted. 

"Speaking of places to stay," you mentioned in an effort to change the subject, "I don't want to stay in your hair any longer than's necessary. What are some good realty apps for the area to see what's available on the renting market?"

"I got you, let me send you a link to one," Franklin told you. He whipped his phone out as the two of you migrated to the couch and, after about thirty seconds, you got a notification from him. You opened it and installed a realty app, then once it was installed, you began fiddling with the settings to find an affordable place. You sharply inhaled and sucked your cheeks in. 

"Okay, there are two options for me with my limited budget. One's a seedy-looking shack near a place called Ron Alternates Wind Farm for $1500 a month, and the other one's a trailer near the south coast of the Alamo Sea in a dusty-looking place called Sandy Shores. The trailer's only $725 a month. What do you think? You know the area much better than I do," you said.

"Well," Franklin began, "Shack's closer to Los Santos, but it's, like, double expensive. Trailer's further away, but cheaper. Not sure if this is a pro or a con to you, but it sounds like you'd be Trevor's neighbor, which means more frequent job opportunities and you could hitch easy rides down to Los Santos. Factoring in you don't have a vehicle, I'd go with the trailer. Pick your poison," he finished with a grimace. 

"Fuck. I'll have to go with the trailer, I suppose," you sighed. You dialed the number of the realtor. 


	3. Chapter Three

It had been three days since your chance encounter with the Unholy Trinity, as they called themselves, and you'd become fairly acquainted with Michael and Franklin, especially Franklin seeing as you were living in his house for the time being. You'd met up with the person renting out the Sandy Shores trailer and your contract was drawn up. Now to move in. _Not that it'll be difficult. I have a whole backpack I have to move,_ you thought with a chuckle. 

"Alright, move-in day!" Franklin sung. "This is gonna take all day, just look at all this stuff you have to lug around," he said with a hint of sarcasm. You pursed your lips at him and picked up your backpack, the keychains clinking against one another like a wind chime. _An expensive wind chime._

"Michael's going up to Sandy Shores to conduct some business deals, so he'll be taking you," Franklin continued. 

"Sounds like a plan," you replied. It was frustrating for you to have to rely on other people to get places; you left Ambarino precisely because you were sick of the very same dependence you were redeveloping. A car horn sounded from the driveway. 

"I'm guessing that's Mike," Franklin said. "Stay safe. I'll see you around."

"Thank you for your hospitality," you said, nodding your head as you exited the door and entered Michael's Tailgater. 

"Hey, [Y/N]," Michael greeted you with a courteous smile. "You excited to have your very own place in San Andreas?"

"I'm renting, not 'having'," you corrected him. "And not especially. It's further from Los Santos than I'd like and closer to Trevor Philips than I'd like. But it's better than, you know, sleeping in a mail truck, I suppose."

Michael let out a laugh. "I understand. Trust me, it's better to have T like you than dislike you. You might end up dead in a ditch or in his oven." _His_ oven? _I don't want to know._

"So, Franklin told me a little about the three of y'all, but Trevor seems like he's got a few screws loose," you said, wanting to pry into the psyche of your new neighbor. 

"A few screws is an _understatement._ When you get deep down into it, though, he's more loyal than a dog and acts like one too in every way, shape, and form. Fuck sakes, I've seen him pull food out of dumpsters. But so long as you don't anger him too bad, I'm sure you'll be fine, especially since you're an asset to us." 

"Yeah, you guys keep mentioning how I'm such a valuable 'asset'. How? I met you three days ago in a delivery truck you stole and shot a gun," you asked the middle-aged man.

"You look innocent. Obviously, that's not true, but you have the ability to be able to coax information that none of us would be able to. You're a young, attractive girl; I don't think anybody else in our little group manages to tick all those boxes," Michael replied earnestly.

"Oh, so you're hitting your diversity quota," you laughed. "It all makes sense now."

"I should probably throw out a disclaimer. We had our tech guy run a background check on you. I'm curious," he said as he merged onto the highway, "What's a [Y/A]-year-old girl from buttfuck Ambarino that's never had a real job doing out here?"

"Okay, first of all, I've never had a job on the books. Get your facts straight." You shook your head, slightly embarrassed about what you were about to say next. "My parents... God. They bought this abandoned mining town called Colter and turned it into a living history resort. I'd been working there ever since I was around six years old. Mostly odd jobs like taking care of the horses and livestock as well as cleaning the resort rooms and teaching people how to live without electricity. Older I got, the more responsibilities I was given. When I was 10, I was given a gun, and at 14, I was allowed to go out by myself and hunt and my parents would have me drive three hours round-trip every week to go to the grocery store and pick up what we couldn't make or find. The kick? I was paid $30 per week," you said sorely, stopping your rant before you began to get angry.

"You didn't answer the question. Why are you here of all places?"

"Oh. Sorry. I'm here because I needed to get away. Find a polar opposite of what I was doing."

"That's understandable. It also explains why you were so good at making all those cops spin out," Michael chuckled. "But other than that... what other crimes have you committed?"

You narrowed your eyes, analyzing your history to pick out the worst parts. "Well, I didn't exactly have a plethora of opportunities to make wrongdoings in the middle of nowhere. Occasionally, I'd snatch things in people's rooms I liked when I was cleaning them. I wouldn't take too much at one time or else people would get suspicious."

"Like that necklace you're wearing?" Michael teased with a smile, gingerly taking it off your décolletage to peer at the ice-blue stone with one hand; the other hand was on the wheel of his Tailgater. Butterflies stirred in your stomach as you watched his eyes study your necklace. _The stone and his eyes are almost the same color..._

"Yeah, actually. This necklace was one of the things I nicked. I also had a thing going with a friend I have who works at the store. She'd turn a blind eye while I 'borrowed' items, she'd resell them online, and we'd split the profit. It was a big chain store, not a mom-and-pop," you hastily added, not wanting him to judge you. _What does it matter what he thinks? I'm sure the man has done much worse than that._

Michael let go of your necklace, to your disappointment. It was nice having his hand so close to you. His hand drifted to his leg, tapping his fingers in tune to the song on the radio. "Sounds like a pretty good racket going on for a ghost town." The two of you whizzed by a faded blue sign that read "Welcome To SANDY SHORES" and a couple other words you couldn't read quick enough. You felt your heart skip a beat and your stomach churned-- for the first time ever, you'd be living all by yourself. You gave Michael the directions to your address and you were quick to point out your rental property as you creeped down Zancudo Ave.

"It's not much, but it's better than nothing," you said with a shrug. You stuck the upper half of your torso between the front seats to grab your bag; as you did so, you caught a whiff of Drakkar Noir with a base of whiskey and money. Enjoying the scent while you still could, you pretended you were struggling to grab the bag from your position. Michael extended an arm past you, brushing up against your breasts, to grab it for you. It was only causing more butterflies to rise into your lungs. 

As soon as he grabbed ahold of the bag, he yanked it over the front seat's median as you backed your body up. "Jesus, what's in here? Bowling balls?" 

"Oranges and literally all of my personal belongings. You were close, though," you laughed. "Thanks for bringing me over here."

"It's no problem, kid. I'll be down the street in the trailer at the very end if you need anything," he said as you departed from the Tailgater and took out the keys to your new place. You unlocked it and looked around. 

There wasn't much; just a kitchen, a dining/living room, a bathroom, and a bedroom; but it was all you needed. You set your bag on the ground where a table should have been as you made a mental note to buy one when you could. You toured your new place, periodically taking items out of the bag and putting them where they belonged, until you reached the bedroom. With a groan, you realized you were missing a mattress and a bed frame. 

"Great going, [Y/N]," you moaned, opening the closet in a desperate last hope that the last occupant may have somehow crammed a mattress into it. Only moths flew out. You got your clothes and hung them in the closet, racking your brain in an attempt to figure out where you could find a mattress around the desolate town. You gave a sigh, not wanting to deal with it right now, and texted Gabi.

 _guess who got a new place_ 😳 _the only con is i have no mattress or furniture_ , you texted your friend, attaching a selfie with the bedroom in the background.

 _how'd you afford that? i thought you only had $25 you sly dog!! dont tell me youre a hooker now,_ Gabi replied a moment later. You giggled.

 _omg no, i just helped somebody carry some stuff they'd gotten and they gave me a bunch of cash_ , you replied. Was it really a lie? Innerly, you told yourself not to give too much information about what you had going on. Immediately after you sent it, you got a text from somebody in your phone whose name was "Worlds best dick". _I don't remember putting anybody in my phone with that name,_ you thought with a bewildered expression plastered on your face.

 _If u have no mattress u should come over and sleep with me. U would love it i can guarantee_ 😏, the text from Worlds best dick stated. 

_who is this?? i must have sent this to the wrong number,_ you texted. You realized that with your new phone, you had to scroll all the way down your contacts and must have hit the last contact, W, right before you hit send to Gabi. 

_Cum down the end of the street and see_ , the newest text read. You scowled and immediately changed the contact's nickname to "Trevor". Frustrated to agree with him for once, you decided a walk around the neighborhood would be a good way to get a feel for the town. You changed into a tank top, spandex shorts, and flip-flops and threw some sunscreen on before venturing outside. 

As you ventured down the street, you took interest in the businesses which were standing on their last legs: there was a tattoo parlor, a gas station, an abandoned auto place, and a conjoined sheriff's office-emergency room. 

"Hey! [Y/N]!" You looked around, searching for the voice calling your name. You internally (and maybe, just a little, externally) groaned as you saw Trevor enthusiastically waving at you from the porch of a trailer which looked like it was about to collapse at any given moment. Michael and two other men were also standing on the porch. 

Sighing, you began walking over, giving a courteous smile to the group. "Can I step on this porch? Looks like it's at its maximum capacity," you joked.

"It's at maximum capacity, no, oh, no, what'll we do?" Trevor mimicked in a falsetto voice before switching back to his normal one. "This thing could withstand an elephant. I don't appreciate my fine property being insulted like that. Ron, Wade, [Y/N]. [Y/N], Ron and Wade." 

"Oh, you're [Y/N]," Ron, an older white man with thick-framed glasses stated seemingly ambivalently. His tone was polite enough, but his eyes were narrowed at you with some sort of negative emotion beaming out of them. _Mistrust? Anger? Jealousy? Whatever,_ you thought, dismissing Ron's erratic introduction. _Wait, why did he say that like he's heard about me before?_

"Uhh... hi, [Y/N]! I'm Wade!" Wade, a dopey-looking man littered with facial piercings and brown dreadlocks grinned at you. 

"She _knows_ that, dumbass," Trevor said to Wade with a distasteful scowl.

"Sorry!" Wade apologized, stiffening up and looking alert. 

"No, you're all good. No worries," you assured Wade, who seemed to slump over with relief. 

"No, it's _not_ good! Ugh!" Trevor began before Michael put a hand on his shoulder. 

"Calm down, T," Michael muttered. At his command, Trevor seemed to chill out as much as he could. 

"All righty. The shipment plan is all figured out, so we don't have to worry about that any more. What we _do_ have to worry about, however, is that [Y/N] doesn't have a mattress. For unknown reasons, she refuses to use mine. So, solution: Ron, give her your mattress," Trevor rattled off.

"I don't want anybody's used mattress! What is so _difficult_ about that concept?" you exclaimed, pressing a hand to your temple in exasperation. "I just need truck or something that'll fit a mattress and maybe some other furniture in it and directions to the nearest furniture store."

"You could have just said that you wanted me, sugar. There's a store that should have what you need on Meringue Lane," he said. He began walking off his porch and gestured to a dirty red Bodhi with a teddy bear hanging off the front of it. He opened the passenger door and gave a dramatic gesture. "Get in, m'lady!"


	4. Chapter Four

After a couple minutes of Trevor's hectic driving and you clinging onto the door handle for dear life, you arrived at a furniture and mattress store. 

"You know I could have just walked, right? Give me about thirty minutes and I'll be out," you told him. 

"No way," he declared, getting out of the truck with you, "I know the manager. Chairs break a lot in my home, not my fault, by the way. All Wade's fault. He'll give you a fair deal if he sees me." 

"Fine, I guess," you muttered, figuring he was honestly just going in for the air conditioning. You opened the door and held it open with your fingertips as you walked in. A larger man with small glasses and pursed lips looked at you, then the man behind you, and sighed. 

"I told you two days ago, Trevor, the next shipment of those chairs you like is coming in three days," the man monotonously informed him. 

"Well, then, it's a good fuckin' thing I'm not looking for chairs!" Trevor laughed before quickly regaining an impossible-to-read face. "This... lovely lady... needs a mattress, a boxspring, a bedframe, a couch, pillows, a table, and chairs. I don't give a _shit_ which chairs, just chairs." You looked at him incredulously as he rattled off the list.

"I can't afford all that!" you whispered in annoyance. "I only have two grand left, and I'll still need to pay my rent for next month." 

He shrugged and looked at you. "Like I said, my pal Randy'll give you a discount."

You, Randy, and Trevor walked around the store and ticked off the boxes of your needs and wants list one by one; you made sure to choose the least expensive things so you could afford food and save up for a car that was actually registered in your name. 

The final item you needed to get was a mattress. The store was somewhat cramped; it only had three mattress options. "Take your time trying them," Randy had told you. "I'll be at the front desk getting the other items you're purchasing ready to take home." 

You felt like Goldilocks as you gazed at the three mattresses; one of these had to be "just right"... right? You sat down on one, bouncing on it to get a feel for the softness and durability. You almost fell over as Trevor jumped up on the mattress and began squealing while hopping on it like an excited four-year-old. You stifled a laugh and had to admit the sight of a grown, tattooed man jumping up and down like that was pretty amusing. 

"You can jump on it once I buy it. I need to make sure I don't get one that fucks my back up," you giggled. He said nothing, simply jumping to the one beside you instead. After trying all three mattresses, you eventually chose one. 

"Alright," Randy began at the cash register, "your total is $2,100." Your stomach dropped, and you realized you'd have to take a few things off the list.

"No it's not, Randy. I did the math, and it's gonna be $500," Trevor argued with a vexed smirk. 

"Well, I did the math too. $2,100 or get out," Randy replied, devoid of any emotion. Trevor reached over the register counter, grabbed Randy by his shirt, and dragged him outside, where he started to shout, yelling words you couldn't quite make out. You watched in astonishment through the glass door, not sure what Randy's fate was about to be. After several moments, Randy came in with a bloody nose and a smile and told you, "I believe my math was wrong. I added an extra zero. It'll be $210 total. I apologize for the inconvenience, ma'am."

"That's _miss_ ma'am to you, Randy!" Trevor shouted. You gave Randy the $210 agreed upon and began loading it into the back of the Bodhi, Trevor helping without asking. As he assisted you, you took notice of how his upper body was surprisingly muscular. "This is just a free trial, first month premium is free on me," Trevor said with a wink. 

You felt your cheeks flush as you insisted, "No, I was just spacing out. Don't read into everything I do!"

"Whatever you say," Trevor replied with a chuckle. "Make sure you're lifting all this shit with your knees. Or your back. I don't fucking know." You let out a laugh and the pair of you soon finished loading everything up in a tower of furniture. 

As you both got into the truck, you mentioned to him, _"Please_ make sure you drive back to my place more carefully than you did coming over here. There's a mountain back there that's gonna topple at any moment."

"Believe me, sugar tits," Trevor told you, "I'll drive like there's a nuke back there." 

As you continued to cautiously drive west towards your trailer, the sun was touching the horizon; bright orange clouds with pink lining seemed to almost shine. You checked the time on your phone; it was nearly eight o'clock! Back in Ambarino, the sun set around six, and there certainly weren't any sunsets this beautiful. 

Caught up in observing nature, you didn't notice the vehicle had stopped beside your trailer until you heard Trevor shout, "[Y/N]! Look at me when I'm talking to you."

"Sorry, I was spacing out," you said. _...Again._ At least this time, you were telling the truth. 

Trevor tutted and said, "That excuse only works so many times in a day, hon. I'll give you a free pass... this time."

"Thanks for all your help, Trevor. I can unload it and bring it all in by myself; I'd hate for you to keep your other friends waiting," you grunted as you undid the back of the truck bed. 

"You know," Trevor began, "When you say 'other friends', it implies that _we're_ friends. I like that." You closed your eyes, and, laughing, turned to him as you were carrying a chair. 

"Well, I mean, I thought you were gonna slit my throat there for a minute in that mail van. We're certainly not strangers after that," you chuckled. He rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. 

"If you insist, [Y/N]. And Michael left right after you started to take your walk. We were done with our little business discussion by that time. Yeah, Wade and Ron are probably still hanging around my place like leeches on a pair of sweaty balls, but thirty minutes of waiting isn't gonna kill them," Trevor countered. _He's got an interesting way with words, that's for sure._

Nearly panting from constantly lifting heavy cargo, you slumped against the outer wall of your trailer to catch a breath. "How do all of you deal with this heat?"

"Easy. I don't," Trevor told you. You cast him a look of surprise. "What, you think everybody here's born around here? I'm certainly not. I guess, over time, I've gotten accustomed and adapted because I'm not a fucking pussy."

"Thanks for your wisdom, O wise sage," you laughed as you shook your head and got back up to continue carrying your new things in.  
  


It was 8:45 by the time you and Trevor had finished bringing everything into your humble abode. All that was left to do was set up your bed. 

"You know," you started, sitting at your new dining table reading a booklet, "It's a good thing you stayed to help, because this bed frame's instructions are more confusing than an Ikea dresser's. I don't know if I'll need a second pair of hands, a second set of eyes, or both. What do you make of this?" you inquired, tossing the instruction booklet to him. He struggled to catch it, and it fell on the floor. You snorted in an effort to hold back a laugh and he gave you an annoyed glance.

"I come here, offering _my_ valuable, precious time to you, and you think it's okay to _laugh_ at me?!" he shouted, forcefully throwing the booklet back at you. "Fuck you, I'm outta here."

"No, I--" you tried apologizing as he stormed out the door, slamming it as he exited the trailer. You heard tires squealing and rock music blaring as he left the property you were renting, and you let out an exasperated sigh. 

'What is his deal?!" you asked yourself in exasperation. "Dude's a fuckin' grenade." It was painfully apparent that he was severely unstable, but you'd found he was pretty fun to be with once he let his edgy, horny, aggressive guard down.

It was 11:30 at night by the time your bed was completely put together. You stepped back to look at it with pride before realizing you had neither bedsheets nor a blanket. "Oh, well," you told yourself. "It's too hot for those to be of any use right now anyways." Your phone began ringing and your heart skipped a beat. Praying it wouldn't be Trevor calling to keep yelling at you, you smiled when the caller ID showed it was your old friend Gabi. 

"Hey, [Y/N]! You free to talk right now?" Gabi asked you in a chipper manner. Her voice was a sweet, low tone; almost gravelly. 

"Of course. What have I missed out on?" You inquired.

"Oh, my God. _So_ much." Gabi began rattling off the updates around Colter. They weren't anything to write back home about, but it was nice to hear your pal's voice. "Sooo, do you have a boyfriend down there yet? Ooh, ooh, what's your new body count?" Gabi was the type of girl who spoke any questions on her mind and demanded answers.

"Christ, no, I don't have a boyfriend. There was a guy whose house I stayed over at while I was finding a place to rent. I tried to hit on him, but he turned me down because his coworker-slash-my-neighbor has a thing for me, so that's whatever. There's a guy who I've got the hots for, but I'm pretty sure it's just gonna be skinny love and nothing else. So, to summarize, no boyfriend and the body count hasn't gone up. Yet," you told her with a laugh. 

"Okay, what about the guy who likes you? Mister Neighbor? Let him wine, dine, and sixty-nine you. If it doesn't work out, just hit and quit," Gabi purred into the phone. 

"He's a bit of a loose cannon, Bri-Bri, plus his hygiene's not up to par. I don't know, part of the time he's horny as a toad, part of the time he actually treats me like a person, and part of the time I think he's gonna tear my throat out. Like, tonight, he takes me to a furniture store, helps me out with the bill, then when he dropped something and I laughed he started screaming and left," you explained with exasperation. 

"Huh. Sounds like he'd really benefit from shower sex," Gabi laughed. 

"You know, you and him would get along great. You're both perverts," you muttered. "Anyways, about the stuff that _actually_ matters-- I don't have enough money to come back home for a couple months, but the guy I met? The one whose place I stayed over at. He, my neighbor, and skinny love guy all... they all run a business together and agreed to hire me, so here I am, working on vacation."

"Sounds to me like an excuse for saying you moved to Los Santos. Just say you moved. By the way, it would be a lot easier if you'd just give me these people's names so I'm not mentally labelling them as House Guy, Crazy Neighbor Guy, and Sexy Guy," Gabi insinuated.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. House's name is Franklin, Crazy's name is Trevor, and Sexy's name is Michael," you said while pinching the bridge of your nose. _This girl always manages to pry every little drop of information out of me, doesn't she?_

"Thank you! Was that so hard to admit?" she asked you. A muffled noise came from over her side of the phone, and she said, "I have to go now. Oh-- by the way, your parents say they miss you, Will says hey, Rod says fuck you and he wishes you'd get back with him, and Myra says she wishes you were back. Bye!"

"Wait--" you started to say before the dial tone hit your ear. Will was your older brother. You were closer as kids, but as you aged, you grew apart. Myra was your angelic seven-year-old sister. Out of everything back home, her and the family husky were who you missed most. Myra would never fail to cheer you up and was always optimistic. 

And then there was Rod. _Fuck Rod_. He thought it was acceptable to cheat on you and deny what you'd seen with your own two eyes, then call you crazy when you broke up with him. He'd written songs about you that had maybe three dozen listens on SoundCloud and spread dirty rumors about you to all the people you ran in the same circles with. If shitty ex-boyfriends were enemies in a video game, Rod would be the final boss.

As you seethed in anger reminiscing about Rod, a faint scratching sounded outside your door. Praying it wasn't Trevor breaking in to axe murder you, you cautiously opened the door only to find an adorable surprise: a furry brown tabby cat staring up at you with wide green eyes. "Aww!" you exclaimed, opening the door wider to let the cat sniff your hand. It gave your hand a sniff, then pushed into it, then ran into your trailer. "Okay, I guess I have a cat now," you muttered to yourself. 

You took some beef out of your refrigerator you'd put in there when you'd first arrived and gave it to the cat, who eagerly ate it. After giving the cat a once-over, you figured it was a she-cat. "I sure hope you can eat that without barfing... hmm... Sadie." The cat gave an enthusiastic _purr_ as if approving of her new name and, once she was done eating, hopped onto your bed and began sleeping. "Good idea, Sadie," you muttered as you realized just how tired you were. Curling onto the naked mattress, you quickly fell asleep with your new friend beside you. 


	5. Chapter Five

You awoke abruptly to a banging noise against your bedroom window. Confused, you groggily made your way to the door, careful not to trip over Sadie, and opened it to see Trevor quickly tapping his fingers against his left leg as he tapped his right foot. 

"[Y/N], come quick," he spit out before running away and jumping into his truck. _Well, that didn't answer any questions whatsoever._

"Give me a minute. I need to eat and take a shower," you yawned before he began slamming the horn of the Bodhi.

"No time, now or never, sugar tits!" he bellowed over the cacophony. Grunting in frustration, you made your way over to the truck. Wade was sitting shotgun, so you hopped in the truck bed. _What else is there to do on a Tuesday morning?_

"What are we doing right now, Trevor?" Wade asked. You were glad you weren't the only clueless one, for once. 

"Drugs. Getting drugs. A truckload of drugs," Trevor explained as he hit the gas like his foot was made of lead. You clenched onto the side of the bed, praying for dear life he wasn't going to slam on the brake and make you fly twenty feet in the air.

"But you already did those today, didn't you?" Wade inquired. _Well, there's one question answered._

"Crystal, not Deludamol. Besides, dumbass, T.P. Industries needs to restock on its supplies at some point or another. Don't want the fans to get angry," he stated, seeming to punch the gas even harder. The three of you were easily clearing 100 miles an hour, if not more. 

"I hate to be a party pooper, but shouldn't somebody more... sober drive?" you timidly asked from the back. 

Trevor whipped his head around at you and snarled, "You just woke up. Studies show that those who just wake up and drive have a 509% higher chance of getting into a crash and dying." 

"Wow. You're so smart," Wade uttered in amazement. You had a feeling that statistic was pulled out of thin air, but you didn't want to get the man angry again, so you dropped it. 

"Here's the plan. We trail the van until it stops at a gas station. You-" Trevor instructed, gesturing at Wade, "distract them. While you're talking to them, you-" he continued, now pointing at you, "and I are gonna jump in the van and take it. Wade, make sure you play dumb. That shouldn't be too hard for you. Take my truck to the lab. I don't think they will, but if cops start following you, go somewhere else until you're sure you've lost them before bringing it back." 

The Bodhi hung a hard right onto the highway, causing you to shriek as you clung onto the side of the truck bed even tighter than before. It gradually slowed down until you spotted a gray van with "DELUDAMOL" printed in blue on the back. "I think I see it up there. How do you know it'll stop, anyways?"

"Easy. These vans barely clear 10 MPG because they haul so much, and they have teeny tiny gas tanks," Trevor explained. "There's a gas station about a mile ahead, so I'm gonna trail it and see if it stops there. Wade, remind me what you'e gonna do?"

"Talk to the driver and take your car," Wade recited. The pharmaceutical van moved to the right lane and kept its turn signal on.

"We got 'em," Trevor muttered. He followed the van, pulled around the back of the gas station, and parked. "Now's your time to shine, Wade." Giggling, Wade ran out of the truck.

"Who's gonna be driving?" You asked Trevor as you slowly trailed the juggalo. 

"You. I wanna see how well you can outmaneuver. That and I'm absolutely blasted."

"I thought I had a 509% higher chance of killing everybody?"

"Well, I think you've been awake long enough now." The pair of you finally made your way to the front of the station, where it was obvious Wade was in the middle of passionately explaining something. "Now's our chance. Act casual."

You circled around to the front of the van; to your relief, the keys were still innocently dangling from the ignition. You quietly opened the door the same time as Trevor, then turned the key, slamming the door as you did so. You hit the gas as hard as you could, feeling the gas nozzle yank out of the fuel tank as you drove away. The driver stared agape and Wade pretended to look surprised too, much to your amusement. 

"Good job!" Trevor exclaimed. "I was kind of hoping you'd fuck up so I could use this baby, but at least I know you're a decent getaway driver." He pulled out a pistol and began aiming at nothing in particular in front of you. 

"Well, we're not out of the woods yet. If I go too slow, we'll be in the cops' search radius," you grunted, putting your hand on top of the gun and tilting it down. "When I die, I don't want the cause of death being you accidentally blowing my brains out."

"I suppose," the man conceded. A few moments of silence passed as you drove twenty miles above the speed limit, weaving in and out of old cars and RVs. "So, about last night..."

"What about it? I'm _not_ going to apologize for you getting angry," you snorted with contempt. 

"Well, thank you for thinking the worst of me, [Y/N], but I know I kind of got a _little_ angry. That's as close of an 'I'm sorry' from me as you're gonna get," Trevor muttered, looking away from you and out the window. "If you still haven't figured it out, I can come over and put it together." He then turned his head and gave you an inquisitive side-eye.

"Surprisingly enough, I managed to put it together with my inferior woman brain and hands," you told him, your tone laced with sarcasm.

"Hey, we both know that's not what I meant!" he exclaimed. Quieter, he asked, " _Welllll_ , is there anything else you need- or want- from me?" He leaned in close to you, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, actually. I need cat food. And a litter box. And litter. I found a cat," you told him.

"Oh. There's a lot of those around here. I don't want to stop anywhere in this van, so I'll call Ron and have him buy all that." Vigorously scratching his arm, he called Ron and relayed the instructions. 

"What a stick in the mud... I don't think anybody's gonna follow us now, so head to the Liquor Ace on Algonquin Boulevard," Trevor said once he got off the phone with Ron. 

"Sounds good," you replied. You turned the radio on and flipped through the channels until you settled on a station called Non-Stop-Pop.

"Goddamnit, I thought you'd have a decent music taste, but it's just as shitty as Mikey's," Trevor groaned, rolling his eyes into the back of his head. You simply smiled and shook your head. Silence followed for the next couple minutes until out of the blue, he asked you, "Ever seen a dead body before?"

"Uhh," you stammered, the wild question catching you off-guard, "yeah. I have. One frozen in a glacier a couple hours away from me was the first one I ever saw when I was maybe seven years old. Back where I used to live, northwest Ambarino. We'd also find frozen bodies in the mountains once or twice a year. It could be pretty unnerving."

"Oh. Ambarino. _Am-bur-riño_. Tell me more. What's it like up there? Colter, right?" he asked further, making you sharply exhale and shake your head when he butchered the pronunciation.

You told Trevor everything you'd told Michael and Franklin. Considering the fact that he was higher than a cloud, he was listening very attentively. "... and here I am now," you finished recounting your life summary-- at least, recounting the most you were willing to share with the people you'd only just met over the past week.

"What do you miss most about it?" Trevor asked once you were finished speaking. The query caught you off guard.

"Huh... well... I guess I've got a friend up there, Gabi, who I miss. I miss my dog I've got up there... I miss my little sister... those are the only aspects I really miss. That and a face full of snow when I'm out here in nasty 80° weather with no AC running in my shitty little trailer." As you finished speaking, you were pulling up to the Liquor Ace and parked beside the front door, trying not to run over any shattered glass. 

"Ron'll be over here after he drops that stuff off at your place to help us unload. For now, it's just you and me," Trevor said, smiling and giving you a wink. You rolled your eyes, opened the back doors, and hoisted a box onto your shoulder. 

As you navigated your way upstairs, you took notice of the plethora of nearly-nude posters, causing you to shift in discomfort. It wasn't that they were unattractive, by any means; rather, it was the lack of similarity between your body and theirs. _Whatever. Why do I care, anyways?_

On the second floor, a man with a shaved head wearing thick-framed black glasses turned to see you, box in arms, and immediately whipped out a pistol.

"Who are you?" he snarled.

"Just a delivery man," you grunted, placing the box against the wall. "Deludamol, fresh from the factory just for you." His stance eased and he put the pistol away, deeming you to not be a threat.

You eventually finished the task; Ron had arrived about halfway through and mostly watched, much to your annoyance. Once finished, you wiped the sweat off your brow and cracked your back, giving a yawn. You checked your phone and saw the time was already 1:15 in the afternoon. Your stomach groaned.

"Can I go home now? I'm fuckin' starving," you complained. 

"Nope, not yet. One last thing we need to do. You and I are gonna go east into the desert and destroy this van, then I'm gonna buy you some lunch," Trevor told you. You leaned your head against the side of the stolen van and looked up, squinting at the intensity of the sun.

"Alright, fine... you drive ahead, I'll follow you to wherever you want to blow this bitch up."

After around 15 minutes of cautiously following Trevor's erratic driving, the two of you made it to a desolate dune. You both got out of your respective vehicles and approached each other; once you were within ten feet of each other, Trevor tossed a gun to you. It fumbled in your hands before you got a firm grip on it.

"Christ, Trevor! It could have gone off!" you shouted, heart beating in your throat from panic. 

"I've never taken a gun safety class, how the fuck would I know? Point it at the fuel tank and shoot at it until it explodes," Trevor told you, vaguely gesturing toward the vehicle. 

Taking a deep breath, you aimed the gun at the fuel tank. You planted your dominant foot behind you to make sure the shots were steady before firing shot after shot at the van. Smoke began to rise before a loud _BOOM!_ echoed across the sand and hot wind from the explosion brushed against your face. You looked to your left, a small part of you wanting approval from the Alamo drug lord. He gave you a nod of satisfaction as he leaned on one leg against his Bodhi, watching the flames lick the sky. After a minute of watching to ensure the van would be thoroughly destroyed, he began to get into his truck and called after you.

"The Park View Diner's about seven minutes away from here. Is that an okay place?" Trevor asked you as he peeled away from the scene.

"Yeah, sure. Drive-thru, right?" you inquired. 

"Nope. I'm taking my favorite employee out to lunch. Once we're done eating, I'll give her a paycheck to cover this morning," Trevor told you, his eyes on the road in front of him as he smiled.

"Hey, whatever it takes for a paycheck," you replied. Trevor began to open his mouth to chime in with a snide remark before you hastily added, "whatever it takes _within reason._ "

The two of you walked into the diner and sat at a booth facing each other. The waitress on duty, an overweight middle-aged woman with a dark pixie haircut, flashed a wary look at the pair of you before sauntering over. 

"What can I get you guys to eat and drink?" she asked, staying an unusual distance away from the table. 

"Oh, I'll tell _you_ what we want to eat and drink... _Sheri_." Trevor had to lean closer to her and squint his eyes to read her scrawly nametag. You covered your face with the menu, already cringing at the possibilities of what could fly out of his mouth. "I can't speak for my lady friend here, but I'll take a number three, side of fries, with a Pißwasser."

Pleasantly surprised by the lack of perversion in his answer, you answered Sheri, "I'll have a number six with a side of chips and a lemonade to drink, hold the ice, if that's okay." Sheri grunted in acknowledgement as she took your menus. Shortly after, she returned with your drinks. You noticed that yours had an extra thick wad of napkins beneath yours compared to Trevor's, and when you lifted up your glass, there was writing on the napkin. You picked up the napkin, which said:

_Go into the bathroom if this man is holding you captive._

Struggling to hold in a laugh, you 'accidentally' spilled your drink on the napkin, obscuring the writing before Trevor could take notice. 

"Why is that napkin all blue? Looks like euthanasia juice. Give the napkin to me, I wanna wring it out and try it," Trevor mentioned as he peered at the spill you were mopping up. 

"What the fuck, no," you groaned in disgust as you put the used napkin close to you, ensuring he wouldn't ingest it. 

"Here you go," Sheri announced, giving you both your respective plates. She shot you a concerned _(Or was it judgmental?)_ gaze as she set yours down. "Enjoy."

You were a third of the way done with your meal when Trevor observed, "Fuck, you're a slow eater." You looked over to him to see his plate looked as if nothing had ever been on it. 

"Well, shit, have you ever thought maybe you're a _fast_ eater?" you nearly gasped in surprise, wondering how anybody could stuff that much into them in such a short time. 

He raised an eyebrow, considering your opinion, before giving an impartial shrug. "Nope. Turn your plate around, I want some of your chips." _Well, he_ did _pay for it,_ you reasoned as you shifted the plate to give him access to your sides.

After about ten minutes, you were finished with your meal. He gestured his head toward the door and you gave him a stern look. Sighing, he put money down on the table before the two of you got up to leave. 

Fifteen minutes later, you were getting out of his truck. He also got out and you were confused for a moment before recalling earlier in the day when he said he was going to pay you. He looked into his wallet and fingered through several bills before handing some over to you. 

"Just let me know if you want more. See you soon, honey," Trevor told you before getting back into his truck and driving down the street. As his truck growled in your ear, you began counting bill after bill. Mouth agape, you went into your house and counted it twice more before confirming that he'd indeed given you $1,000 in $20s and $50s. _This has to be an accident._


	6. Chapter Six

Shortly after receiving a fat stack of cash, you texted Trevor asking if he'd given the wrong amount. As much as you wanted to keep it and chalk it up to employer error, you feared what he may do if he found his missing money in your hands.

 _That's exactly how much i gave 2 u. Good job counting. Use it well,_ he'd texted you back. You'd spent the past while wisely divvying out your money between furnishing your trailer, buying things for Sadie, and finally, you'd put a down payment on a cheap, shitty Asea with 75,000 miles on it. It was rusty, it was scratched to hell, and it was transportation that wasn't dependent on neighbors. 

You were stationed outside your trailer; the landlord had given you permission to repaint it, so here you were with a baby blue paint bucket trying to do right by the metal walls. 

"I can do that for you, you know," a voice sounded behind you. You suppressed a yelp of surprise and spun around to see Ron in a bucket hat. 

"Um, okay. If you'd like... why?" you asked him. He was usually standoffish toward you. _Maybe he's wanting to perform an act of goodwill? Or maybe he's wanting to start over clean with me._

"Trevor saw you painting and he told me to take over," he said plainly as he snatched the brush from you. The window groaned as Sadie pressed herself against the window, begging you for pets. "Oh, is that the cat I picked stuff up for?"

"Yeah. You know, Ron," you muttered gently, trying to make eye contact with him, "You don't _have_ to do everything he tells you to do."

He swiveled his head toward you and gave a look of contempt. "Of course I do! He's my boss and best friend. I suggest you do the same. He's a very generous man, looking out for you, and you can't even do the basic act of putting out for a guy. If I were him, I would have just--"

"Okay, Ron, thank you, but I've had enough Ron today. You can go home," you snapped, not wanting to hear the rest of whatever Ron had to say. He dropped the paintbrush on the ground and, huffing, stormed away.

"You know, you're no Patricia. She didn't put out at first, but at least she took good care of him and loved him," Ron shouted at you as he power-walked back to his trailer. 

"Who the _fuck_ is Patricia?" you shouted after him, confused. _And... jealous?_

"Maybe if you got to know him, you'd know!" At this point, Ron's voice was barely audible as he broke into a run. 

Now curious as to who Patricia was, you decided to call Michael as you went into your trailer. _It sounds like it could be too sensitive of a subject for Trevor._

After one ring, Michael picked up. "Hey, [Y/N]. What's up? Are you okay?"

Oddly pleased to hear a tone of concern in his voice, you told him, "Well, I just got into an argument with Ron. He was being all weird and said I was 'no Patricia', whatever that means. Is there something I'm missing?"

"Oh," Michael laughed, "I almost forgot about her, damn. Patricia," he snorted over the line, "was a 57-year-old mob boss's wife he kidnapped in a rage fit a year back. She got Stockholm's and became enamored with him. She cleaned his trailer and shit, just took care of him, basically. Eventually, she went back to her husband and broke his fucked up little heart." 

"That would almost be sad if it wasn't so messed up." You paused, not sure what to say next. "Do you guys have any _business plans_ you may need assistance in? I'm good on cash for now, but it can't last forever, you know?"

"I don't have anything in the near future, but Trevor always has something. You know that by now, though. I dunno, Frank might have an odd job you could help him with. I don't know if it would be worth driving all that way for," Michael brainstormed aloud. 

"Alright, thank you for letting me know. I'll let you get back to whatever it was you were doing."

"Listening to my daughter bitch about reality TV? Nah, you did me a favor by calling when you did. Bye, [Y/N]." The line went dead and all that was left was you facing yourself in the bathroom mirror. 

"Ugh... I should probably ask for something that pays on a regular basis," you admitted to yourself, running a hand through your hair. Sadie let out a _chirp_ as if she agreed.

"Yeah, kitty. I know," you muttered, reaching down to scratch her chin. You did your makeup, and just as you were about to head back out to speak with Trevor about a more regular paycheck, your phone buzzed. 

_how is it in sunny LS?? lol idk why i asked, prolly better than AM. freezing my ass off in this stupid convenience store,_ Gabi had texted you. Giving a chuckle as you climbed into your Asea, you replied:

 _about to talk with my boss abt a more regular paycheck._ Almost immediately, Gabi shot a text back.

 _neighbor who wants to fuck u? let him nail u to a cross then ask for a raise, miss thing! kill 2 birds in 1 hole._ You chuckled at the misuse of her colloquialisms as you pulled into Trevor's driveway, taking care not to hit any of the stray furniture. Bugs crawled around your feet as you made your way to his front door and knocked.

Trevor opened the door wearing nothing but pink leopard-print briefs, a grin showing on his face. "Well, [Y/N], I'm so glad you've finally caved in. I must admit, I was beginning to become a bit hopeless, but you look absolutely sexy all dolled up like that," he purred, leaning against the doorway.

Looking anywhere but in his general direction, you muttered, "No! I'm not here for... _that_. I was wanting to talk with you about maybe getting a regular pay stub. For the love of Christ, can you please put some clothes on?"

"I most certainly do not love Christ, but if you insist, I'll _dress up_." He left the door and retreated to what you could only assume was his bedroom. Taking a cautious step into the trailer, you immediately noticed a foul odor emanating from it. The floor was covered in litter alongside all the counters and tabletops. Flicking your gaze around, you observed various nude posters similar to the ones in the Liquor Ace and an absolutely destroyed bathroom. Once you got over your initial shock, you felt bad for Trevor. _Nobody should have to live like this._

His bedroom door swung open and Trevor strolled out wearing a dress. "Wow," you stuttered. "That was not something I would've expected in a million years, but thank you for putting something on, I think?" Your mind immediately wondered whether he'd bought the dress himself or if it was something a woman had left behind in haste as she left. Another spark of feeling went off in your body. You couldn't quite place what the emotion was. _It couldn't be jealousy. No way._ Either way, the feeling seemed to be recurring today.

"No problem," Trevor said, sitting down on a dirty chair. You briefly considered making a joke about the chair before going with your better judgement and leaving it be. _I wonder how long he's had that chair for?_

"You know what?" Trevor announced. "Fuck it. _Fuck it_. You get a raise. Two grand every other Friday, plus I'll give you bonuses on the job." He waved his arms around his head as if there were bugs flying around him-- not that you'd be surprised if there were. 

Not sure what your salary even was before this conversation, you thanked him. "And... don't take this the wrong way, man, but if you need some help tidying up, you know I'm only down the street," you added. He simply closed his eyes, let out a huff of acknowledgement, and dismissed you. 

You went home and decided to give up on painting for the meantime, so you closed your bedroom curtains and began fiddling with a TV you'd recently acquired. It was a TV that could attach to a wall, and you were trying to install it across from your bed. You'd gotten the TV itself attached, but it was refusing to turn on. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Sadie hop onto your bed and begin to doze off. After several tries of plugging and unplugging various cords in various spots, you finally managed to get a static signal. 

_"Yes!_ Finally," you shouted in triumph, waking Sadie with a start. She promptly left the bedroom. You knew Gabi's Hulu login information, so you managed to get in and began to scroll through the various shows. "What should I watch...?" you asked yourself. "We've got Seinfeld. We've got Golden Girls. We've got whatever _that_ is." Suddenly feeling out of it, you shut the TV off and laid on your back, sprawled out, facing the ceiling. 

_There's nothing to do around here,_ you thought with a sigh. _Except..._ You repositioned yourself so your upper thighs were rubbing against each other. It may not have been another person's touch, but it was better than nothing. _I haven't played with myself in ages._ Deciding you wanted to be intimate with yourself, you unbuttoned your shorts, fingers fumbling, and slowly made your way down to your clit. 

You closed your eyes as you let your fingers slip inside you. For the first time in months, you felt truly relaxed. You allowed your mind to wander, exploring your most sensual memories. You thought about your first time... your first hookup... your second hookup... your body count was three. You only had so much physical memory backlogged in your head. Finding it wasn't quite sufficing you to the point of climax, you decided to try settling for thirsty memories. 

You thought back to a half-drunk, half-high truth or dare game you played with Gabi, where she dared you to kiss her. Never one to turn down a dare, you not only kissed her, but wrapped your arms around her and made out with her. You recalled all the side glances you'd given her when she wasn't looking and the glances you'd caught her catching as her pretty hazel-brown eyes flicked up and down, from your face to your brassiere, back to your face. 

_Fuck, I miss her,_ you thought, sadness nearly overwhelming your horniness. You quickly tried to think of something, somebody, other than Gabi. You recalled the fluttery feeling you'd gotten when Michael had brushed past you grab your bag and brushed against your breasts. _Oh, yeah, that's it... if only he'd just grabbed my tits instead of the dumb backpack._ You bit your lip and softly moaned as you vividly envisioned a naked Michael running his hand slowly down from your cheek, to your chest, to your pussy as he slipped his dick inside you. 

Your fingers becoming synonymous with your imagination's concept of Michael, you were only a breath away from orgasming. As you were on the brink of climaxing, your envisionment waffled. As you finally orgasmed, you weren't gazing into Michael's beautiful blue eyes, but... _Trevor?_

You felt as if you were on top of the highest cloud in the sky as you came down from the euphoria. Once you floated back to Earth, you muttered aloud, "What the hell was that at the end?" You went to look at your phone, hoping the fabricated memory of Trevor on top of you would subside. You scrolled mindlessly through LifeInvader until you got a text from Gabi.

 _well? did u get the raise n bang???_ she texted you.

 _i had to pass on the bang, but i have a paycheck now,_ you texted back, wondering what she'd say if you told her about what you'd imagined during your personal time.

She sent you a GIF of a monkey giving a thumbs up, you sent back a GIF of an angry monkey, and the conversation was left at that. As you were about to put your phone down, it buzzed from another notification; this text, however, wasn't from Gabi, but instead from Trevor.

It read: _Help me._


	7. Chapter Seven

The text was only two words, but it sparked panic where there was euphoria just moments ago. You hastily rebuttoned your shorts and shot out to your car, slamming the gas pedal as you zoomed down the street. You screeched to a halt and jumped out of the rusty car, keys still dangling in the ignition. Carefully but quickly, you navigated your way up the stairs of Trevor's porch and threw the door open.

"What's wrong?" you snapped, looking around wildly to determine what the problem was.

"Nothing," Trevor replied simply, giving you an amused gaze. "You came quickly. Was I on your mind or something?" He'd changed out of the dress and into a more casual white t-shirt and jeans.

"I didn't come quickly, and you most certainly weren't on my mind," you vehemently protested. 

Breaking into a grin now that he'd found a sensitive subject, Trevor chuckled. "So, one could say you came _slowly_ , then, huh?"

"Oh my God, shut up," you groaned, desperately wanting to change the subject. "What's the problem? You texted 'help me'," you gestured air quotes when reciting the text, "so I can only assume something's _wrong_."

"No," Trevor told you. "It was a general, 'when-it's-convenient-help-me' sort of 'help me', not an 'I'm-in-danger-death-is-imminent' 'help me'. Learn to read tone, woman!" 

"Alright, fine. It's convenient, I'm here. What do you want help with?" you asked, getting the early signs of a headache from Trevor's witless banter. 

"You said, a couple hours ago, that if I needed help 'tidying up', I could get you to do it. Well," he announced, gesturing at the clusterfuck that was the interior of his trailer, "it's your lucky day! Get to work."

"Are you _really_ just gonna sit around and watch me clean your shit up?" you groaned at him.

Trevor gave another laugh and began aggressively shaking his head. "Why the fuck would I stay around to watch that, [Y/N]? I have better things to do. I'm doing biz-e-ness things. You're not a CEO, you wouldn't understand. You can put the trash bags on the porch when you're done, I'll take them to the landfill in my truck eventually." Before you could get another word out, he squeezed past you, gently touching your side, and left the trailer.

"You could have left me a gas mask or something!" you fruitlessly called after him to no avail. Giving a grunt of discontent, you climbed into your car and drove to your trailer to get all the cleaning supplies you owned before going back to the end of Zancudo Avenue. 

You decided to start by taking a broom and swept all the trash on the ground into garbage bags, then knelt on the floor and cleaned it with disinfectant wipes. You had to admit, there was something primally satisfying about seeing the mystery gunk leave the linoleum tiling of the kitchen. You then did the same to the countertops and surfaces. By the time you were done cleaning the main living area, there were five trash bags filled to the brim.

You glanced at his walls, wondering if he was wanting those cleaned, too. You gave him a quick call to clarify and he emphasized you could do whatever you wanted. "Take the wallpaper off and wipe your ass with it, I couldn't care less!" You took down the posters of the near-naked women, folded them up, and cast them to the bottom of a bag before wiping down the walls. 

_Now for the kitchen appliances_. The stovetop and oven were easy enough, as were the cupboards and sink. Praying you wouldn't find anything too expired, you grimaced as you opened a dark refrigerator. You picked through the contents, throwing anything out that was even a day overdue. When you opened the freezer component, something wrapped in thick plastic tumbled out.

"Do I even want to know what that is?" you murmured as you picked it up, curiosity taking over. You unwrapped it to find what looked like some sort of unskinned pig product. Confused, you rotated it in your hand when you realized there was dark, coarse hair on it and a... tattoo? You shrieked, letting it drop to the ground again, and dialed Trevor's number.

"Look, I know you're a needy girl, but Daddy's gonna be home soon," he purred into the phone. 

"I'm not in the mood for your stupid jokes! What's in the freezer?" you screamed. An uncomfortable silence clouded the line.

"You think my jokes are stupid?" he asked with a trace of sadness and anguish in his tone. "No, I'll tell you what's stupid! You going into my freezer, _without my permission_ , and contaminating my thigh! Now I need to get a whole new thigh!"

"You have," you began to gasp, "a dismembered fucking _human thigh_ in your house. What the fuck?! I'm just gonna... oh, fuck... I'm just gonna put it back in the freezer and pretend I never saw it," you finished before running outside and vomiting off the top of the porch.

"Ha, are you _puking?_ I thought you'd seen dead bodies before," Trevor teased.

"Yeah, whole dead bodies! Not frozen thigh chunks that you have in your house's freezer for God- fucking-knows-what!" you screamed. 

"Casa Philips accommodates for all people. You were the one who offered to clean my house, so I _let_ you, only for you to berate me! That's the last time I ever let _you_ into my place." Trevor abruptly hung up, leaving you alone with the mystery thigh. Closing your eyes and using some towels to cover your hands, you gingerly put it back into the plastic wrap it was once in and crammed it into the freezer. 

Two hours passed, and you'd managed to disinfect the bathroom and the bedroom. By the time you were done, you'd calmed down somewhat and reviewed your handiwork. The walls and floor were sparse; it looked like a hotel room if hotel rooms had thighs hanging out in the freezers. 

The door swung open behind you and you turned to see Trevor stumbling in drunker than you'd ever seen him before. He sluggishly swung his head around in awe before resting his dark gaze on you.

"Hum... whoa, [Y/N], you sure... spruced up 'round here..." he slurred as he slowly made his way toward you. "You should've lived _with_ me instead of across. Marry me," he declared as he stumbled and fell over.

Attempting to stifle a laugh, you gently helped him up. "Maybe we should just go to bed for now, you look like you need some shut-eye."

"You'll wanna shut your eyes once I'm done with you!" he murmured. You guided him to his bed and cautiously laid him on his side, drawing the blankets back and pulling them back over him. He looked around confused. "Where are my posters?"

"They had filth coated on them, so they went bye-bye," you whispered as you propped his head slightly with his pillows. "I'm going to leave now."

"Please don't," he whined, his voice cracking as he reached out and grabbed your arm. "I can't handle it when people leave... it always happens..."

"I'm not _leaving_ -leaving, Trevor. I'm going to be across the street at my place. You know where I live. I'm only a call away and you know that."

"Yeah, but still," he whispered, slowly but forcefully pulling you closer to him, "I just need you to sit with me." He laced his fingers in between yours and gave a baleful look up at you.

Partially worried he'd choke in his sleep, partially wanting to comfort him, you told him, "All right. I'll stay until you fall asleep. Then I have to go."

"Nononononono," Trevor grumbled. He reached out with his other arm, grabbed the arm whose hand he wasn't holding, yanked you downwards, and repositioned you until you were spooning. "You gotta stay with me. Please. I'm sorry." He was now crying; you could feel his tears moving down your neck as he further burrowed into it, his alcohol-laced breath warming you up between sobs.

"All right, all right. I'll stay. Go to sleep," you reassured him, tenderly nudging him over with your butt until you had enough room on the bed to lay comfortably. 

"Stop it, I'm not horny for once," he whined. 

"Christ, man, I was just scooting you over so I didn't fall off."

"Oh. Okay." 

He sniffled some more and repositioned his arms so he was hugging you tightly. You glanced down at his hands, steadfastly clasped around your stomach, and experienced a rare, fleeting feeling of being wanted. _Of belonging._ Despite his unpredictable attitude, the possible sex and porn addiction, and the thigh in his freezer, you appreciated how open he was to you. None of your other friendships had that, save maybe you and Gabi's.

Slowly, you became drowsy, and your eyelids drooped as you fell asleep without ever intending to do so. 

You opened your eyes to find yourself in a completely different part of the world. Freezing cold winds caused the blood vessels in your cheeks to strain as you squinted ahead to better understand your environment. You quickly recognized where you were: Ambarino. You were southwest of Colter near the base of Mount Hagen. Overly familiar with this spot, you knew it as the final resting place of many cowboys from centuries ago who froze to death while on the run from the law. The most popular inhabitant of this area, though, was the late and not-so-great gunslinger Micah Bell.

After the lower half of Bell's body was eaten by wild animals, something had dragged the carcass into a pool of water inside a cave on what was considered a "warm day", and it quickly froze over, freezing and preserving what was left of Bell. You made your way over to the cave, grateful for the shelter against the wind, and began walking towards where Bell's body rested. He was a shitty person from what you'd gathered. _No need to give him a proper grave, by any means_. You fumbled around, found the light switch for the electric lanterns your parents had installed, and turned it on, illuminating the cold cave. 

You looked down, expecting to see Micah's frozen face squinting up at you. Instead, it was Trevor's. You gave a gasp of shock and stumbled backwards, struggling to run away. You couldn't run fast enough, but you finally made it out of the cave only to find yourself on Vespucci Beach. You turned around to see if the cave was still there, but it was gone. Panicked, you ran through crowds screaming for help, but nobody heard you.

Again, you opened your eyes to find yourself in a more ideal setting: real life. Morning light filtered through the curtains, the rays being blocked by the dust floating through the air. You quickly remembered the events that unfolded the night before and glanced behind you to see Trevor still clinging onto you. His arms hadn't budged from the night before, and they were still firmly wrapped around your stomach. _I need to go to the bathroom_. Carefully, you tried to scooch away from him so you could get up, but he only pulled you closer and tighter as he mumbled something unintelligible. 

"Hey," you whispered. "Wake up..." You weren't about to piss your pants on your boss's bed.

"Hmm? Holy _shit,_ what did we do last night? I can't remember anything," Trevor grunted with surprise. He separated his hands and began slowly moving one up your shirt while grinding on your ass. You felt a long bump rubbing against you and realized he was hard. "Round two? Or three? Can't fucking remember..."

"Knock it off! We didn't _do_ anything," you told him sternly. "Can you let me go, please? I need to use the powder room."

"Well, we're waking up together on my bed. If my math's right, _something_ was done between the two of us," he whispered, reluctantly letting you go. 

You got up and turned around to face him. "You wanna know what was done? You were drunk and I sat with you to make sure you didn't choke to death in your sleep, and I guess I fell asleep on the job. But no, your hungover ass is right and I'm wrong, we definitely had steaming, raging, hot sex wearing all of our clothes." You walked into his bathroom and closed the door. To your annoyance, you found the lock didn't work. _At least it's cleaner than it was 24 hours ago._ You awkwardly propped one of your legs against the door so there would be no unwelcome guests as you used the facilities; you flushed, washed your hands, and exited the bathroom. 

"If you're done, feel free to come in here and help me with my morning wood," Trevor called from his room.

"I think I'll have to pass for today."

"If you insist. You know where the door is."

You grabbed your keys, exited the trailer, and quickly made your way down the stairs to your car. As you slammed the door, you thought hopelessly, _What have I gotten myself into?_


	8. Chapter Eight

It had been a month since you'd arrived in Los Santos. Originally intending for it to be nothing more than a vacation, you'd found a strange part of yourself falling in love with the state and all it had to offer. _Including people._ A week or two ago, back when you'd helped Trevor after a rough night out, he'd seemed to have kept his distance, not contacting you outside of business. The lack of contact aggravated you. Nearly every night, you'd been having the same dream where you saw Trevor's body where Micah's was supposed to be. You were convinced God, the universe, _something_ was trying to convey a message to you. 

_I thought he liked me! I guess not since I didn't take advantage of him when he was blackout drunk,_ you thought sullenly as you opened a beer can. The only thing keeping you sane was your daily call with Gabi to "spill the tea", as she put it. Unfortunately for her, there had been no tea to spill other than a hooker got killed by a hit-and-run two blocks away from you. Part of you had a sneaking suspicion as to who it was, but you were in no place to make allegations.

"See?! That's why I want to move in with you," Gabi had exclaimed when you'd told her that tidbit of information. "That shit never happens up here. Worst thing that happens is that a hiker'll freeze to death or somebody will get killed by an extra aggressive wolf pack."

As you sat at your dining table drinking a beer and eating a bowl of your favorite sugary cereal, your phone buzzed with a notification. You expected it to be Gabi, but your heart skipped a beat when you saw Trevor's name.

 _Need ur help. Lots 2 do today,_ the text read. You gave a forlorn sigh. 

_ill be over in a couple minutes,_ you replied. You quickly finished eating, got dressed, dolled your face up, and drove down the street, where Trevor was lounging in a fluffy lounger outside his trailer. 

"Hey," you said cautiously as you turned off your ignition and approached him. He only gave you a nod of the head. "What's on the itinerary?"

"Well, [Y/N]," Trevor began, slowly getting up, "what's on our itinerary is we're going to... go for a drive." Your stomach gave a nervous flip. _Oh, fuck. I fucked up and he's gonna kill me._

"Sounds good. Where to?" you asked, praying he'd make you the designated driver. 

"Wouldn't you like to know, sugar tits?" Trevor asked you with a knowing smirk as he slowly got up and approached the driver's side of his truck. "Get in."

Struggling to keep your breath from moving too quickly, you opened the passenger's door with shaky arms and slowly got in, looking around with wild eyes. He started the ignition and the two of you cruised out of Sandy Shores headed south.

After five minutes of silence, save the Radio Rebel faintly coming out of the stereo, you gasped, _"Please_ don't kill me. I'll do anything, swear to God. I'll tell you what happened that one night, I'll suck your dick, I'll try anal, anything, just keep me alive at the end of it!"

He gave you an inquisitive and amused look before letting out a laugh. "If I wanted to kill you, I would've done it by now. And if I knew you would've made those generous offers, I'd've threatened you by now, too. Again, thanks for assuming the _worst_ of me, but I'm actually taking you to Los Santos. You said you were down here for a vacation, and so far, all you've done is work. I'm gonna give you a vacation."

"You know, you really don't have to. It was a stupid decision of me to make, coming down here with no plan or anything," you sheepishly admitted.

"For what it's worth, I don't think it was stupid. I'm glad you're here right now," Trevor admitted, avoiding eye contact with you and sheepishly gazing at the road.

"Trevor Philips, are you actually being nice right now? Not that nasty shit you usually spew, but honest-to-God showing me kindness?" you burst out before realizing what you were saying.

"No! I don't do anything _but_ nasty! Butt nasty, haha... no, I'm just an employer taking his loyal employee and coworker to the beach, hanging out on the famous Del Perro Pier, and maybe, if she'd like, take her to dinner somewhere afterwards for company loyalty."

"What changed?" you asked him.

"What do you mean?"

"I thought after that night, when you were really drunk, you'd decided to move onto bigger and better things than... well, than me. Like you were frustrated at me for doing something wrong."

"Well, [Y/N], I was at first. Really, I was kind of super pissed. My interpretation of how things went down were a lot different than what really happened. I thought that we... well, you now what I thought. But after analyzing the situation, and I mean _really_ sitting down and thinking about it, I figured it out. Something similar happened about twelve years ago when I was hanging out with a friend, Brad. I thought Brad had fucked me in the ass without my realizing, but he told me it was me being a crybaby drunk," he admitted.

"Yeah, the other night, you were really caught up in some deep, dark feelings... I didn't want to hurt your pride because some guys are really sensitive about that, you know? And you were out of it, like, _really_ out of it, and that's why I stayed with you. I didn't want you to hurt like that if I couldn't help it," you told him, gently putting a hand on his shoulder. He turned his head to you and looked you in the eyes, his brown smolder nearly melting your Ambarino-cold heart. 

"Thank you. It's been too hard to find people who care like that," he uttered, barely above a whisper, as he continued driving. The skyscrapers of Los Santos shyly peeked into view through the clouds, causing you to gaze starry-eyed at them. _I don't think I'll ever get over that view_ , you thought with awe.

"Me too," Trevor agreed as if reading your mind. He then proceeded to mimic your expression, making it a point to widen his eyes and open his mouth as wide as possible. You playfully pushed him and the two of you laughed. 

Eventually, the two of you made you way into the city. "What say we stop by Mikey's house?" Trevor asked, taking an abrupt right turn and insinuating his question was merely rhetorical. 

"Is there a choice?" you asked with a laugh.

"Nope."

The truck parked outside a gated residence that was castle-esque, and Trevor scaled a wall with ease. You heard a "Come on!" from over the wall, so you got a running start and slowly yanked yourself over the wall with no grace whatsoever. Trevor laughed as you nearly face-planted in the grass.

"You're telling me Michael lives _here?"_ you whispered in awe. 

"Yuppers," Trevor said as he confidently opened both the front doors. Surprised they were both unlocked, you followed him as he navigated the household until he found a pretty girl around your age with chest-length blonde hair. He creeped behind her and quickly put his hands over his eyes. "Guess who?"

She let out a scream and elbowed him in the gut, causing him to curse and double over. "Oh my God! I'm so sorry, Uncle T! I thought you were... well, I don't know who I thought you were. A home intruder?" she apologized.

You widened your eyes, expecting Trevor to go feral on her. Instead, he slowly stood back up to his full height and laughed it off. "Well, Tracey, I'm glad a home intruder would get the shit beat outta them by you. Where's your dad?" he asked the girl, Tracey.

Tracey gave a pouty face and began thinking before she realized you were in the room. "Who the F are you? You _know_ I like my privacy. I can get you arrested, you know!"

"Whoa, Trace, relax," a familiar voice sounded from behind her. To your relief, Michael came into the room. "She's a friend of mine. [Y/N], T, what are you both doing here?"

"We were popping down to Los Santos and I figured you'd want to see your best friend." Trevor quickly began to lean against the wall in an attempt to look cool as Michael's gaze flitted between the pair of you.

"Okay. I see you," Michael began. "I was really looking for more of a night in."

"Oh! Mister Hot-shot movie producer is too good to hang out with us! Not like we wanted a buzzkill like _you_ third-wheeling," Trevor said with contempt.

"Ew, you guys are on a _date?"_ Tracey chimed in.

"No!" you insisted. She rolled her eyes.

As she walked out of the room, you could faintly hear her mutter, "Everybody but me can get a date. Whatever." 

"So, what are you in town for in the first place?" Michael asked.

"I've started a sort of Employee of the Month program at T.P. Inc. [Y/N] here is the recipient of the first month's prizes, which include a day out in this shitty city with yours truly. We're going to Del Perro Pier and going on a boat and something."

"Sounds like a solid plan that you definitely thought out. You should probably get out before Amanda sees you and gets all weird," Michael said as he gave an apologetic look to Trevor. 

"All right, I know when I'm not wanted. See you soon," Trevor said.

"Yep. Bye, [Y/N]," Michael said, giving you a friendly wave as you and Trevor left his house.

"I gotta ask a question," you said as the gate opened and you walked to his truck. "If you have just as much money as Michael, why don't you get a big-ass house like that instead of living where you do?"

"Simple," Trevor replied with a shrug as he turned the keys to the ignition. "Fuck it, start already!" Once he slammed the side of the steering wheel and the engine began to purr, he continued his statement. "I'm not one of _them."_

Still as baffled as you were when you asked the question, you gave a nod of acknowledgement. 

"Del Perro Pier isn't too far from here, so we should be there soon," he muttered. Sure enough, twenty minutes later, you were walking down the pier with a large cup of funnel cake bits. 

"So, is that massive ferris wheel the only ride here?" you asked, wanting to alleviate the awkward silence broken only by the noise of you chewing and swallowing.

"No, there's a rollercoaster here, too. I don't remember what the name of it is, though. L-something. Luh-luh-luh... Lesbian? No," Trevor thought aloud.

"Leviathan?" 

"Yeah, that sounds right. I _wish_ I could ride a lesbian. How'd you know?" Trevor asked.

You simply pointed to a souvenir shop across from you, "The Sea Word", with a shirt plastered to the window saying "I RODE THE LEVIATHAN AND LIVED". 

"Oh. Here I was thinking you were reading the back corners of my mind," he replied with his awe quickly fading. "Okay, I guess we're going into The Sea Word. Ha, c-word. Cunt."

"You have the mind of a perverted toddler," you chastised as he followed you into the souvenir shop. As a force of habit, you began looking through the keychains as you seemed to pick every other one up to buy. You were mildly surprised as Trevor simply watched your arms slowly fill with keychains, water bottles, and shirts. 

"That'll be $157," the peppy cash register attendant told you once all your items were scanned. As you fumbled through your wallet trying to find the exact amount, Trevor pulled out two $100 bills and placed them on the counter. 

"No, let me make my own bad decisions," you said in surprise.

"Let me be generous, for once," he argued as the attendant gave him his change. He gave the change to you and said, "Keep it."

Somehow leaving the shop richer than when you went in, you carried the bags of stuff with a full smile on your face. "You know you didn't have to do that, right? I'm not _rich_ , but I can afford to treat myself."

"I can afford to treat you better than you can afford to treat yourself. Besides, you're Employee of the Month. Gotta give the other guys something to aspire to, you know?" He flashed you an inquisitive look, trying to gauge how you felt about him whimsically dropping $200 on you.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right." _Maybe I_ do _deserve a reward for all this bullshit I have only myself to blame for._ "Wanna ride the rollercoaster?"

"I'm personally more of a ferris wheel guy myself, but sure."

"Huh," you pondered. "I'd have taken you to _definitely_ be a rollercoaster guy."

He chuckled and shook his head, then made finger guns and pretended to aim at nothing in particular. "It's much easier to shoot people from a ferris wheel than it is from a rollercoaster."

You and Trevor got in line for The Leviathan; luckily, the line was short and it was only a couple minutes before the ride attendant secured the lap bar on the pair of you. It was a narrow seat for two people, so you and Trevor's thighs were inevitably touching. _Good thing he's wearing jeans..._

Trevor stretched and yawned with a bored expression on his face as the ride began to creep along the tracks.

"This thing sure goes slow-" you began before letting out a scream as the ride lurched into full speed. Both you and Trevor gripped the lap bar in unison, his hand touching yours before quickly fumbling away. You look at his hands, not really noticing them before, and saw that his right hand had a scorpion tattooed near his thumb and the word FUCK written across his knuckles.

Before you knew it, the ride was over and the lap bar released. You got up and stretched your legs as you walked out of the exit.

"Well, that was absolutely lame," Trevor muttered, his hands in his pockets.

You gave him a playful nudge on the shoulder. "Why so glum?" 

He shrugged in response. "I... we should probably get going before the sun starts setting."

"Okay, Princess Fiona. I didn't take you as one to retire early," you said, concerned something was wrong with the man. "We should at least get dinner. I saw a place called Lagoon's Diner over there, my treat?"

"I'm not a princess. And what, you think I'm too broke to pay for food?" It was clear Trevor was going through some sort of withdrawal. He was getting very irritable very quickly, which meant aggression was on the horizon quickly approaching.

Gently, you placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hey. You okay?"

He had no verbal response, just a doleful look cast towards you. 

"I'm gonna take that as a 'No, [Y/N], there's something wrong I'm too angsty to talk about.' I can drive us home and maybe we can find a movie to cheer you up or something. How's that sound?"

"I know what would 'cheer me up', and it isn't a fucking movie," he spat as he jerked his shoulder away from you and began speedwalking to the truck. Almost struggling to keep up with his walk without breaking into a jog, you entered the driver's seat and began the ignition. 


	9. Chapter Nine

You pulled into your gravel driveway. The radio was whispering Willie Nelson as Trevor dozed off. You didn't blame him; the drive time was the perfect window to nap. However, all good things had to come to an end. You tapped his shoulder, and when he didn't stir, you gently shook it until slowly began blinking and looking around. 

"Shit, I didn't even realize we were here already," he grunted as he got out of the truck. You passed him and unlocked your trailer, holding the door open for him as he crept in. "I haven't been in here since I helped you move all this in. You've certainly spruced up the place."

"Yeah, well, those are the skill sets I get for being a bed and breakfast maid in bum-fuck Egypt for the past umpteen years," you sighed, letting the vanilla-scented air fresheners fill your nostrils as you inhaled. 

Trevor went and sat on the couch. "Where's the TV?" 

Your eyes widened as you realized the insinuation that could be brought with the TV situation, especially with a guy like Trevor. _I_ really _didn't think this over, huh?_ "Well, it's in there. I've found that beds are just couches with built-in footrests," you improvised, hoping it sounded plausible enough for somebody on a meth low to believe. 

"I'll drink to that." He hoisted himself up, strode into your bedroom, and made himself at home under the blankets. 

You tossed him the remote and said, "I'm gonna order some pizza. You can pick out the movie. I only have Hulu on there, though."

"Not anymore, you don't..." you heard Trevor mutter as you opened UberEats and got a 14-inch cheese pizza. 

Once you were finished with the task at hand, you asked him, "What do you mean, 'not anymore, I don't'?" as you plopped down next to him plugging in a Netflix password. _Holy shit, that's gotta be at least 30 characters..._

"My buddy pal Moe-Lester siphons the highest tier accounts," he said as he hit ENTER. " Saves me a whopping $14 a month. The passwords are stupid as hell, though. The man thinks I can remember a password like 1-2-3-4-5-6-A-lowercase B-C-dollar sign that repeats over and over again? I just keep it all in my notes app." He raised a fist in gloomy triumph as the home screen became available. 

"Hold on... are you talking about Lester the tech guy?" you asked with suspicion, recalling the encounter you'd had with cameras in Franklin's house.

"Yep. Dude's creepy as fuck, but he's a goddamned genius."

"I've never hated a person whose face I've never seen as much as Lester," you huffed in contempt. Trever gave you a side glance of half-surprise, half-amusement. _At least somebody finds something amusing out of all this._ "He planted cameras in Franklin's guest bathroom and watched me shower."

"Classic Lester," Trevor sighed. It was obvious he was trying to hold in a laugh. Eventually, he gave up and began cackling while slapping his leg. "Oh, Christ, that's a new low for him, and he's sunk pretty low."

"Glad to know I'm the lowest of the low," you said dryly, letting a small smile escape your lips while lightly chuckling. 

Oh, that's not what I meant!" Trevor quickly became defensive. "I meant... I meant... oh, you know what I meant!"

"Take it easy. I know," you reassured him. "What sounds good to you? _Tiger King? Orange is the New Black_?"

" _Tiger King,_ " he agreed. Right as you were about to press PLAY, your phone began to buzz. You picked it up and saw Gabi was wanting to Facetime you. "Take it."

"Oh my Goddddddd-uh! Hey!" Gabi squealed, giving you an enthusiastic wave. "You'll never guess who I bumped into."

"Who'd you see?" you asked, hoping she wouldn't say something like 'your ex'.

"How about I show you instead of tell?" Gabi said. The camera began vigorously shaking as it passed hands, almost giving you vertigo. 

"Does Gabi have Parkinson's?" Trevor muttered, peering at your phone from out of camera shot and scowling. _Good thing she can't see him, too, otherwise Gabi would never quit asking questions._

"Hi, [Y/N]," a youthful voice said shyly. 

You gasped in delight as you saw your seven-year-old sister, Myra, peek into the camera's view. Not able to hold back a grin, you exclaimed, "I miss you _so much_ , Myra. I wish I could just sprout wings and fly up there so I could see you."

"You know," Myra began, "Gabi told me that she was able to fly... once." 

"No, I didn't! I don't know what you're talking about. Say bye to [Y/N]," Gabi said as she rushed to take her phone back from the small pair of hands. "Sorry, but she came by in the store with your mom and I just had to steal the opportunity. I need to get back to my shift now, otherwise Mr. Bullock will shit himself. Your mom says she misses you, and Myra says she misses you, and Gabi says she misses you. Bye!" The screen went black as you desperately touched it, frustrated you weren't able to keep talking to them.

"You really miss them, huh?" Trevor said quietly. _I forgot he was there._

You quickly blinked away tears that were starting to form and said, "Yeah. I haven't seen them in nearly two months. I've never been away from home for so long before. Funny how that works."

Trevor looked as though gears were turning in his head. "Well, you should press play. I've only watched the first episode, but it seems intriguing enough."

After three episodes in and a whole pizza box eaten through, you were beginning to feel drowsy. The warmth of being under the blankets plus the coziness of being next to another person could do that to anyone, of course. You'd barely noticed when Trevor slowly slipped an arm around you, and from what you did notice, you didn't mind-- you even enjoyed it. Your head slowly migrated towards Trevor's shoulder and you fell asleep.

 _Not this dream again_ , you thought in annoyance as you found yourself at the entrance of the Mt. Hagen cave. Knowing what you had to do, you made your way to Micah's ice grave and turned the lights on. _That's different._ To your surprise, where there was normally a body was a hollow pocket of air within the ice. Large, snowy footprints were around the empty ice casket and lead out of the cave. You turned and walked the way you came only to find that instead of the beach being there like it usually was, there was a spiral staircase surrounded by pitch blackness. You began to go down it, but no matter how fast you went, the staircase didn't seem to end. You accidentally tripped over yourself and fell over the edge of the stairs.

"Haargh!" you gasped as you woke up. You tried moving your head, but found it didn't want to move. _Sleep paralysis. Great_. A weight- Trevor's head- was alleviated off your head momentarily after thinking that and your head shot up. 

"Huh, I guess we both drifted to sleep," Trevor realized at the same time you did. Morning light came in through your windows, seeming to almost twinkle and smile at you. 

"Yeah. Sorry about that," you grunted as you propped yourself up. 

"I need to smoke a cigarette. Do you want one?" he asked as he took a cigarette and lighter out of his pocket and began to light it up.

"I-- you know what? Fuck it, sure." The place was advertised as smoke-free and you weren't the biggest fan of the smell of cigarette smoke, but it wasn't like the past 24 hours couldn't get any weirder, right? He took a cigarette out of the package, stuck it in your mouth for you, and lit it up. It helped calm your nerves after the unsettling dream. 

"Can I admit something to you?" Trevor asked. You nodded, reluctantly curious as to what he was about to confess. _Curiosity killed the rat_ , you could nearly hear Gabi tell you. 

"So, this is gonna sound really stupid, and I don't know if you even realized it or not, but it's been nearly a week since I've smoked crystal. I've been smoking double the amount of cigarettes as usual to try and compensate, but it's still a helluva bummer," he said quietly, puffing his cigarette periodically as he spoke.

"I don't understand. Why'd you want to quit in the first place? I'm glad you're taking your health into consideration, but it seems like it kind of came out of nowhere," you asked gently, hoping you wouldn't get too close to the point where he'd pull away.

He gave a shrug. "I started it when I thought Michael had died." You were confused for a brief moment, then quickly remembered what Franklin had told you during your first few days in Los Santos. "I went through a rough time of it. _Really_ fucking rough. I can barely remember the first year after he died. Now that he's resurrected, he's... for lack of a better term, inspiration. I don't know. I guess when I die, I want to die with my guns blazing, not because I OD'd. Does that make sense?"

"I understand," you told him. "How come you're telling me?"

"I needed to tell _someone_ so I could be held accountable. What, you think I'm good at holding myself accountable? I did that for ten years and look what it got me," Trevor spat bitterly. 

"What do you want _me_ to do about it?"

"Ugh... I don't know. Just forget I ever told you," he grumbled. "You got an ashtray anywhere?"

"Yeah, it's called the garbage can," you joked. He held a hand out and you gave him the butt of what you had remaining. 

He slowly got up, groaning as he did so, and made his way into the bathroom where a small disposal can was for feminine products. 

"Don't get mad at me for having a thigh in my freezer when _you_ have a body's worth of blood in here!" he yelled in amusement. "But for real, if you ever want to donate your blood, Trevor Phillips Enterprises accepts it without questions. Only _your_ moon blood, though."

"Why are you sneaking through my trash? That's nasty," you complained, finally heaving yourself up to drag him out. 

"Aw, don't get mad at me for trying to have a little fun," he pouted as he heard you approaching. "All right, all right, I'm done in there." 

"Good. Stay _out_ of my trash," you insisted crossly as he gave a triumphant smirk. "Sadie has better manners than you do, I swear!"

"Who's Sadie? Oh, right. The cat. Where is she, anyways?" Trevor asked as he continued looking around, this time for Sadie instead of more nefarious things.

"Probably sitting in the shower. She likes it there."

"I thought cats hated water. Go figure." Trevor took the liberty of opening your refrigerator to see what food you had inside. "Hmm... pathetic! You don't even have that much beer."

"Sorry, I didn't realize I was fresh out of human thighs." You moved your way over to the fridge and closed it. "Cool air's valuable around here." You opened the freezer, brushing against Trevor's side, and quickly grabbed some toaster strudels. Your favorite flavor, of course; nothing less would do. You popped four into your toaster and the two of you watched them, almost hypnotically, as they jumped up. You gave two to him and kept two to yourself, and you both made your way to the dining table.

"So," Trevor began, "Gabi. Gabby Gabi. Always gabbing, never shuts up. What's she like?"

"Well, you got the gist of her right there," you laughed. "She's kind of like _you,_ now that I think about it. She's obnoxious, she talks a _lot_ , she's aggressive, and she loves the ladies. And gentlemen."

"I do absolutely _none_ of those things! Except love ladies. That's _all_ I do, though," Trevor huffed in retaliation.

"Right, of course. I've known her ever since we were kids. We ran a few schemes together, about as big as you can get in the middle of Antarctica, and we were big in the party scene."

"The party scene in Northwest Ambarino."

"You're getting the theme of it. Her favorite thing to do is sing karaoke or a cappella, but she can't remember the words to a single song for her life. She can't remember idioms and old sayings, either, so she'll end up saying things like 'Cat dragged your tongue?' or 'Water under the sleeping dog'. She always lights up a room. Fuck, I miss her." You continued to gush about her for another minute before Trevor cleared his throat and held a finger up, causing you to pipe down.

"She sounds like a fucking idiot."

You snorted. "Yeah, she really is. She's _my_ idiot, though. I can't wait until I get to see her again once I've got the money to go back for good."

Panic and rage spread throughout Trevor's face. "What do you mean, 'Go back'? You have a trailer here, I thought you _moved_ here! I n-... T.P. Industries needs you!"

"What are you talking about? You know it's always been the plan for me to go back," you scoffed back. "Not today, not tomorrow, but once I have enough money to fly back and then some!"

"What about your job? What about... what about _me?!_ I actually _care_ about you, [Y/N], and that's something that can be said for very, _very_ few people in my fucking life. Michael, his kids, Franklin, Lamar, and _you_. I unburden myself to you, I give myself to you willingly, and you repay me by still leaving?!" Trevor had raised his voice; you could almost feel the table shaking from the sheer amount of noise coming out of him.

"Trevor, I don't understand! We're _friends_ , it's not like we're... we're _dating_ or anything! Phones exist, I can call you and talk to you, you could even expand your business up there! I barely even do anything besides keep people company here." Your voice was trembling as you fought tears.

"We're _friends_? Is that all I am to you? A friend?! You've slept in my bed. I've slept in _your_ bed. You've cleaned my trailer. I helped you move in. We had a whole date last night, oh, you can't deny it. And it's not even to get a notch on my belt at this point, it's because we both want something more and _you fuckin' know it!_ I think better, I sleep better, I _live_ better ever since I met you! It's only been, what, a month, but I feel like we've known each other all our lives. _You_ made me understand why Michael did what he did, disappearing with his family." Trevor was screaming at the top of his lungs as he confessed his heart out to you.

"I... I don't know what to say," you whispered, dumbfounded at the heap of words he'd poured out to you. "I like being here, but I have my friends back home, my family back home, my _life_ back home! You can't honestly expect me to stay here for eternity just for one person's convenience when I have a life to live." You'd given up your fight with your tear ducts at this point and your voice was at equal decibel to Trevor's.

"All right. You know what? Fuck you, I need some time to think." Clearly distressed, Trevor stood up mid-meal and stormed out of your trailer, slamming the door behind him.


	10. Chapter Ten

It had been two days since your massive fight with Trevor. You'd tried texting him multiple times to no avail, and when that didn't work, you went knocking on his trailer door at least once every other hour, to which he didn't answer either. Ron had watched you do this several times with a glare of contempt on his face.

"That's what you get for hurting him like that," Ron viciously spat at you on one occasion. 

When you weren't blowing up his phone or knocking on his door, you were in bed binge watching _Golden Girls_ and eating bowl upon bowl of ice cream. You kept asking yourself, _Why do I feel this way? It's not like we were dating and broke up._ You knew the answer, though. A small part of you really liked him and he'd made it painfully obvious he liked you. Regardless of those facts, though, you were friends above anything else. 

It didn't help that Gabi wasn't answering any of your texts, either. You needed a girl to conference with, and your main one was AWOL. For a few moments here and there, you'd considered texting Tracey de Santa, but that would mean asking Michael for her number as well as divulging the situation to her, and she seemed like quite the gossip girl from her first impression. 

At around four in the afternoon, you'd reached a season finale and you were intensely watching as you downed your third pint of ice cream that day. Right when the episode was reaching its most climactic part, your phone buzzed, causing you to yelp in surprise. You immediately turned the TV off and your heart skipped a beat: after two days of being left on read, Trevor had replied.

 _33.394939, -116.054202_ was all the text said. You looked at the numbers in confusion before realizing they were coordinates to somewhere. Worried something bad had happened to Trevor, you frantically opened your map app and copy-pasted the coordinates to find they led to the Sandy Shores Airfield. 

Your mind whirling as you tried to figure out what to do next, you figured it would be wise to call somebody and let them know where you were going in case you disappeared, too. You fiddled with your phone, waffled between Franklin and Michael, then chose to call Trevor's best friend.

"Yello?" Michael's voice was the one thing keeping you sane right now.

"Oh, God, holy _shit_ , Michael, something's really wrong," you began to chatter. "Trevor and I got into it two days ago and I haven't heard a peep from him since, and he just now texted me coordinates to the airfield in Sandy Shores!"

You were met by a dry chuckle. "[Y/N], you _do_ know the airfield's owned by T, right?"

"What? Why would he own an airfield?"

"He's a pilot. That's kind of what he does."

"Oh... that explains the flag on his trailer's wall."

"Yep... I'll see you soon, [Y/N]. Bye." You were met with a dial tone as you felt stupider than ever.

"What kind of game are you trying to play, Trevor?" you shouted aloud as you put on some clothes. You hoofed it to the airfield at 60 miles an hour to see a defaced Frogger helicopter on the ground with blades still moving from the recent flight it took. You saw Trevor hop out and walk toward you with an enthusiastic smile on his face.

"I did it!" he exclaimed. His arms were open in a hugging gesture as he triumphantly shouted, "I fixed the problem!"

"Huh? What problem are you talking about?" you asked, perplexed by his declaration.

"You said you missed Gabi, so I brought Gabi here! Granted, she's just a _little_ bound and gagged, but she'll be fine, soon as she gets a pint of water in her system."

"You _what?!"_ you shouted as you booked it toward the helicopter, nearly pushing Trevor over as you shoved your way past him. You clambered into the helicopter to find a Gabi-shaped lump beneath a tarp, so you tore it off the lump to find your friend in a fetal position sniffling. There was a t-shirt stuffed in her mouth wrapped around with a headband holding it in place; she was hogtied, rope binding her arms and legs. You ripped the t-shirt out of her mouth and she gasped for air.

"Oh, my God! [Y/N]? Fuck, he got you too? We gotta get out of here," she whispered as her eyes frantically darted back and forth. 

"Shit. This is all my fault. I'm so fucking stupid," you murmured as you raced to untie her. She got up, knees shaking, and attempted to begin running only to stumble down the steps from the helicopter to the ground. You forced yourself to stifle a laugh as Trevor came wandering over, also confused. 

"Trevor, you can't just kidnap people," you shouted as you helped her up.

"You know his name? All he told me was that I was going somewhere really hot," Gabi said. "I just thought he was talking about Hell." She paused before her eyes widened further. "Wait, Trevor? Isn't that the name of your neighbor?"

You groaned as you slowly put the pieces of Trevor's fucked up logic together. "Yeah. I think he was mad that I want to eventually leave for Ambarino, so he's trying to bring Ambarino to me."

Gabi glared at Trevor. "Why the fuck didn't you just _say_ that you were bringing me to [Y/N]? You definitely didn't have to fucking kidnap me, you could have just, I don't know, talked to me like a _normal human being?"_

Trevor shrugged, the beginnings of a mischievous smirk on his face as his gaze darted between the two of you. "That would have been too difficult. I had to make it fun _somehow_. By the way, [Y/N], I met your family. Nice people. Myra seemed to especially take a shine to me."

"Christ, Trevor, don't get involved with my family. Please," you begged, praying it was a joke.

"I needed somewhere to stay the night! I support local businesses," he insisted with a serious expression. Gabi was watching the two of you interact with a perplexed gaze.

"I'd ask you to take me back, but it's nice to be on an involuntary vacation, so thank you and fuck you, _Trevor_. Can I clean up at your place, [Y/N]?" Gabi turned to you and you realized just how exhausted she must be.

"Yeah, hop in the shitty Asea over there. I need to talk to Trevor for a moment, just him and I." Gabi grunted in response to your reply and trudged over to the car.

"How the _fuck_ does this fix all the problems? Now I have to stay longer because now I have to figure out a way for both me and her to leave together! I have to take care of her now, I... ugh! This has solved your problems and only added to mine. You can't just do this, Trevor! You can't uproot everybody else's lives for your own convenience!" you hissed at him.

He looked confused. "Why are you so mad? You have everything you want now!"

You slowly exhaled as you attempted to compile the right words to say. Something that would get through his thick head. "I don't have everything I want right now. I wanted to be in Los Santos temporarily. I'm A: Not even in Los Santos, and B: _Not_ in a temporary situation right now thanks to what you've done! You could bring a dozen tons of snow and dump it over my trailer and I'd still want to go back to Ambarino! It's where I live!" 

Anger and hurt now enveloped his face. "You can't leave. I've already told you this. I need you..."

Not having the energy to continue the conversation, you let out a long sigh. "Well, Gabi needs me more than you do right now. Just... text me or something if you life-or-death need anything." You turned around and walked away, not daring to turn around and see the expression he was wearing now. You got into your car and started the ignition.

Once in your trailer, Gabi found a bottle of water and chugged it all within thirty seconds before running into the bathroom and slamming the door. About an hour passed before she came back out from using the restroom and showering. The whole time, you simply sat on your couch staring at nothing, only struggling to understand why Trevor thought you'd _like_ it if he did what he'd done.

"Hey." Snapped out of your trance, you turned your head to see Gabi wearing nothing but a towel around her body. Her pale olive skin glistened from water droplets she had yet to dry off and her shoulder-length dark hair was conforming to her head and neck. 

"Y-yeah?" Your heart seemed to skip every other beat as you stared at her. _I knew I missed her, but not like_ this...

"You got any clothes I can wear? I'm lucky I'm a size smaller than you," Gabi teased with humor sparkling in her deep hazel eyes. "But for real. I need clothes that aren't soaked in my own sweat unless you want me to walk around everywhere with nothing but a towel covering my _lady_ bits."

"Oh. Yeah, pick your poison. Clothes are in my debroom- I mean, bedroom," you murmured, still struggling to process Gabi's involuntary arrival and how you felt about it. She walked into your room, not bothering to close the door, and dropped her towel as she began rifling through your clothes. It wasn't abnormal for her to display these behaviors, by any means; she was the kind of girl who enjoyed being checked out. 

She found some well-fitting clothes and turned around to see you staring at her. She winked and said, "Take a picture, [Y/N], it'll last longer."

Blushing, you shook your head and insisted, "I wasn't looking at you! I was just... spacing out."

"That's what they all say," Gabi teased as she came up to you and gave you a tight hug. "I really missed doing things like this." You embraced her back, inhaling her sweet floral scent and feeling her breasts press against you. She moved her arm up and down your back, gently massaging as she did so. 

She stepped back from you, giving a sly smirk. "So. Hot people. Where do we find them and how will we divide them?"

You closed your eyes and let out a soft chuckle. "Your standard bimbos and himbos will be littered along the beaches in Los Santos. It's an hour and a half drive, though, if you're up to it."

"You know I'm always down to party, bitch! Who's our squad? Don't tell me it's just us and the creepy old guy," Gabi begged.

"No, it's just us. And I don't think he's _that_ old," you said as you crossed your arms.

"Right, I forgot DILFs were your type. Not that I'd like to fuck him _or_ that he's dad material. Dude kidnapped me, but I digress. Really, there's _nobody_ else you know in the party scene after a month of living here?" she groaned.

"Well," you began, hoping you wouldn't regret saying this. "I know a girl, her name's Tracey De Santa. We haven't talked too much, but from what I've observed, she seems like the type to never turn down a night out."

"Wait. Tracey? De _Santa?_ From _Fame or Shame,_ daughter of Michael De Santa, executive producer of hit movie _Meltdown_?! Holy shit, how do you know her?!" Gabi screamed, grabbing your arms and twirling you around. "Oh, my God. My best friend knows somebody who's been on TV!"

"Yeah. I know her through a friend of a friend," you vaguely stated in hopes to keep the manner of you'd actually met her away from Gabi as long as possible. "I'm gonna make some calls and see what I can do. Hopefully it'll make up for my neighbor kidnapping you."

"Fuck, he could have killed me and I'd still forgive you as long as I get to meet a whole entire celebrity!" she squealed. "All right, I'll let you make those calls. Don't keep me waiting for too long."

You whipped out your phone and texted Michael asking for his daughter's number, and he quickly responded.

 _273 **-** 555 **-** 0168\. Why? _he replied.

You began to text a reply, then figured it would be better to call him.

"What do you want now?" Michael asked in a half-joking tone.

"To explain what happened." You gave him the rundown of the past several hours.

"So, what you're saying is you want to borrow my daughter to have a party pass to anywhere?"

"When you put it that way... yeah."

Michael let out a long sigh. "Fine. At least she isn't partying with porn stars again. I'll pass your message on. For now, just drive down here with your friend." 

He hung up and you let Gabi know the good news. "Fuck yeah! Party time!"


	11. Chapter Eleven

You and Gabi were in Rockford Hills. The whole ride there, she'd made you listen to Katy Perry's entire discography as she belted it off-key and with the wrong lyrics. Unlike you, Gabi's family had taken her on several vacations as a kid, but she'd never been to Los Santos or San Andreas before. It seemed every other second, she was letting out a gasp and excitedly pointing to something.

"Look, look, look, [Y/N]! Ponsonby's! I wish I was rich," she moaned while repeatedly smacking your shoulder.

"Tap me one more time and we're gonna get into a wreck! Let me focus on the road. We're almost there," you spoke through giggles. A night out with somebody who wasn't a guy would be a nice refresher. When you reached the De Santa house, the gate crept open.

"Look! A gate that moves by itself!" Gabi gasped, smacking your shoulder again.

"I see," you said warily. Once the gate was open wide enough, you slipped through and parked your car in front of the garage.

Gabi practically flung herself out of the car as she bounced around waiting for you. You got out of the car, passive aggressively taking your time, and sauntered up to the front door where Michael stood. 

"Where's the princess?" you asked teasingly. 

He gestured with his head to the stairs. "Up there, the door with all the flowers on it. Knock if you want to live."

Gabi trailing behind you, you made your way up the stairs and quickly spotted the door Michael was talking about. After you knocked a couple times, a voice came from behind. "What the F, Dad! I told you to leave me alone!"

"Guess again," you said. After a moment, Tracey peeked through the door and looked you and Gabi up and down. Gabi had stars swimming in her eyes.

"Hey," Gabi said dreamily. "I'm Gabi."

"Cool," Tracey replied. She pointed at you. "You're [Y/N], right? I've met you before." You nodded your head in reply and Tracey opened the door all the way up. The room was littered in pink-themed objects. "All right, what do we want to do tonight?"

"Anything you say," Gabi muttered dreamily. 

Clearing your throat, you nudged Gabi to wake her out of the trance she was in. "Do you know of anything we could do on the beach, maybe?"

"Do I? Hell yeah," Tracey snorted. "That isn't even a question." She took out her phone and began scrolling through various social media apps. "Okay... I found one right on Vespucci. Y'all brought swimsuits, right?"

"I, uh, just arrived," Gabi sheepishly explained, "and forgot to pack a swimsuit."

Tracey looked at Gabi before determining, "You're smaller than me. I'm a fucking pig. We're gonna have to go shopping. My car only fits two, so we'll have to go in yours."

Gabi shot you a side glance and did a small fist pump. You could nearly her her thinking, _We're going shopping with a_ celebrity!

"Sounds like a plan," you said as the three of you left the room and descended the stairs. "My car's a POS though, just warning you beforehand."

"Whoa, you weren't lying," Tracey scoffed as she exited her house. "I call shotgun!"

You got into your car. Tracey was sitting beside you as Gabi climbed into the back. You handed Gabi your phone.

"Pull out the GPS, find a clothing store that won't put me in debt once we walk out, and give me the directions as I go."

"Left-- I mean right!" "Keep going straight for-- oh, we were supposed to turn!" Gabi kept messing up the directions until Tracey held her hand out.

"Gimme the phone, I can give directions to [Y/N]," she laughed. Gabi, blushing in embarrassment, handed the phone to Tracey. Surprisingly, Tracey was a decent navigator and the three of you made it to a Suburban store with no major bumps in the road.

"I'm capping your budget at $80, Gabi," you said sternly.

"Neither of you get anything that's pink or checker-patterned. I don't want you copying me," Tracey sniffed.

"Whatever you say," Gabi purred. As you and Gabi perused the bikini aisle, she asked Tracey dozens of questions. "What's it like being a celebrity? What's your net worth? Have you ever had a stalker?"

"Well, I'm basically an A-lister, so I've had my fair share of problems," Tracey said sincerely as she looked at her nails. You struggled to hold back laughter; Tracey was a D-lister from last year at best. If it weren't for Gabi, you'd've had no clue who or what Tracey De Santa was. 

As Gabi continued fawning over Tracey, you'd picked out a pastel blue bikini set. Gabi picked out a greyscale camo bikini. You went into separate changing rooms and tried them on, then ripped off the tags so you could keep them on while paying for them. 

"That'll be $143 total," the cashier told you.Grimacing, you pulled out your debit card and swiped. "Thanks, have a good night."

You, Tracey, and Gabi walked out of Suburban, got into your car, and had Tracey continue to navigate to Vespucci Beach. Between her directions, Tracey asked you and Gabi some questions in an effort to get to know the pair of you better.

"So, [Y/N], how'd your date with Uncle T go?" she asked with a coy smile on her face. Gabi let out a gasp.

"You went on a date with somebody and didn't tell me? How?!" she nearly screamed, reaching past the front seat's cup holders and smacking your shoulder. _Again._

"For fuck sakes, both of you! I didn't go on a date with anybody," you moaned in frustration. "I work for him. We were doing business."

"Oh, Tracey began with a giggle, "if it were _business_ , then how come my dad wasn't there?"

"Because not everything is centered around Michael, Tracey. Just keeping house," you insisted, praying the girls would drop it. "So, Tracey, what should we expect at the party?" 

"Sore subject, huh?" the pretty blonde said with a tilt of her head. "That date must have _sucked._ Fine, fine. I'll drop it. Um, the party will have people there, I guess? There'll most likely be a bonfire of sorts. Drinks and drugs-- the usual kind of party, nothing too crazy."

At the mention of drugs, Gabi leaned in so her head was between you and Tracey's. "What kind of drugs?"

Tracey shrugged. "Whatever you can afford. Or whatever you're willing to do to a dealer. Your choice." 

Gabi smirked and got a little too cocky. "If the dealers look like you, I'd do anything they asked."

"That's gay, Gabi!" Tracey said with a laugh. You internally grimaced. _Probably because she_ is _gay. Halfway there, at least._

"All right," you said, cutting Gabi off before she could give a flirtatious retort, "Looks like we're here!" You parked and made your way to the beach as the sun began to set. You were navigating your way to where you heard techno-pop music blaring.

"Hell, yeah," Gabi growled seductively as she popped her shirt and shorts off. You and Tracey did the same and stuffed your clothes into your backpack you'd brought with. "Wanna play in the ocean?" Gabi asked, playfully grabbing your hand and leading you to the massive body of water.

You pulled away from her. "Not right now; maybe later. After today, I think we _both_ need to unwind with some drinks."

Gabi gave a shrug. "Whatever you say, lover girl." Tracey gave you and Gabi an odd look.

Once your trio reached the crowd, Tracey asked, "Wanna meet up in an hour or two after doing some mingling?" Gabi gave a thumbs up. 

The next few hours seemed as if they were a blur. Music filled your body as you took shot after shot and passed a few joints around. You were almost as into it as Gabi was; as usual, she was shouting the wrong lyrics at the top of her lungs in between drinks, puffs, and other drugs you didn't see. 

You vaguely remembered dropping Tracey off at her house and nearly hitting several animals on the highway to Sandy Shores. You and Gabi stumbled into your trailer.

"If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends!" you both screamed during a duet of _Wannabe_ by Spice Girls.

"I hooked up with Rod after you left."

"That's terrible. Fuck you."

"Oh, I'll fuck you, alright..."

The memory blurred until you were both stripping each other off while passionately making out. Gabi reached toward your groin and gently started playing with your clit as you tenderly grabbed her breasts and pushed her onto the bed. You began running your fingers through her hair as you inhaled between tonguing her face. 

"I missed you so much, Gabi."

"I can tell, [Y/N]. I missed you, too."

Gabi flipped you over so that she was on top of you and she slowly began kissing her way down your body until she reached your pussy. She gave you a seductive glance to see if you consented.

"Fuck, do it already," you moaned as you cupped the back of her head in your right hand, guiding her as she began eating you out. Gabi gripped the sides of your hips as you ground on her mouth. As her tongue was inside you, she moved her hands and gently massaged your clit with her right index and middle fingers. Her left hand was moving its way up and down your body. You arched your back upwards as you climaxed, and Gabi moved her head away from your groin to look at you with a triumphant smirk as a combination of saliva and your juices dripped off her chin.

You pulled her up so she was laying on top of you as you made out with her again, then you flipped her so she was on her back. You sat on top of her so both your groins were touching as you took one nipple between your left fingers and one in your mouth as your right hand drifted downwards and began to finger her.

"Oh... [Y/N]..." Gabi whispered between moans of pleasure. You couldn't hold yourself back any longer. You relocated so your head was between Gabi's thighs and licked your way up to where they met. You'd never been with a girl, but it all came naturally. You ate her out for several minutes then used your tongue to play with her clit as you fingered her. "Shit, [Y/N], you just made me cum..." Gabi shouted, grabbing your hair and using it as reins to pull your face even closer to her. As soon as her throes of pleasure had subsided, you laid beside her and pulled up the blankets with your face in her neck. 

The next morning you awoke in bed, nude, next to Gabi. Your head was furiously pounding as you attempted to recall the night before and piece by piece, everything began to trickle back into your memory. Your eyes widened as you snapped your head to look at a still-sleeping Gabi. _She's so beautiful when she sleeps,_ you thought to yourself as you got up. _God, [Y/N], snap out of it! We were both so out of our minds. I don't know if she'll even remember or if she'll think anything of it._ Unsure what to feel, you navigated your way to your bathroom and took two Advils in an effort to make the throbbing in your temples subside. 

You returned to your bedroom after eating breakfast and threw some clothes on. 

"What's going on?" you heard Gabi groggily mutter from the bed. "Oh, shit..." 

She slowly sat up in bed with the covers barely keeping her modesty and gave you a look of curiosity. "How much of yesterday do you remember, [Y/N]?"

"Well, how much do you remember?" you retorted in hopes she'd forgotten about what the two of you had done. 

"I asked you first," she grunted as she rubbed her face. "I remember you dragging me out of your psycho neighbor's helicopter... I got to hang out with a celebrity..." Her eyes darted back and forth as she slowly began to recall the night, then they snapped toward you as a grin crept across her face. "Then, and correct me if I'm wrong here, but we had raging, passionate sex."

You felt your face begin to blush as you glanced away. "That's the gist of it." 

Gabi swept her tongue across her lips. "I can still taste you, ya know..."

"Well," you said, "I just ate breakfast and took a shower, so I can't." You'd never hooked up with a girl before, let alone a girl who you considered your best friend. "I just want to put this out there, Gabi. I like you. A lot. I guess that's obvious. I... I can't be in a relationship with you, though. I need you as a best friend and I don't want to risk losing that."

Hurt seemed to show in Gabi's eyes for a split second before she blinked it away. "Well, thank God, because that's exactly what I was gonna say! Yep! You took the words right out of my mouth..." she trailed off as she got up, brushed past you nude, and put on the first clothes she saw in your wardrobe. She twirled around and looked at you. "Do you have any hangover meds?"

"Yeah. In the bathroom."


	12. Chapter Twelve

It was two in the afternoon the day after you and Gabi's night out in Los Santos. The two of you were having a lazy day in watching _Bob's Burgers,_ Sadie sleeping between you, while eating more junk food than you should have when your phone lit up with a notification. 

_Need help now. meet @ liquor ace_ , a text from Trevor read. You gave a glance to Gabi, who was humming along with the ending credits.

"Hey, I need to do some work stuff. I'm on call," you explained as you left the bed and began to put your shoes on.

"Okay. I guess I'll just have to spend some quality time with Sadie here," Gabi cooed as she picked up the cat and brought her closer. 

As you walked out the door, you noticed a massive dent in the front bumper of your Asea. "God fuckin' damnit," you muttered as you realized you must have run into something last night. You drove to the Liquor Ace, where you saw Ron standing outside the door fidgeting with something.

"Hey," you called as you turned your car off and walked up to him. "You know where Trevor is?"

Ron gave you a look of half-amusement and half-disgust as he stepped aside from the door and jerked a thumb towards it. "Upstairs." As you went into the building, you heard Ron humming _Wannabe. Huh,_ you thought, _didn't Gabi play that last night after we got home?"_

You walked into the room where most of the meth was made to find Trevor standing behind a table which had several boxes wrapped in newspaper on top of it. Upon looking closer, you noticed the newspaper had various marker colors scribbled over it.

"What the fuck is that?" you asked Trevor while pointing down at the mystery boxes.

A look of mock hurt clouded his face. "They're presents! You only get one, so pick wisely."

"This was what you needed help with?"

"Yep. I need to give one of these to all my sexy little employees like Ron down there and, seeing as you're an of-the-month-er, I figured you should have first pick," Trevor said, smiling with pride at his idea. "Only if you... wannabe the first one to pick it. One could say a _friend_ could pick it out for you if you can't decide." The pride in his smile had morphed into one of mocking and humor.

"Okay, what's up with you and Ron?" you said in exasperation. 

A loud laugh came out of Trevor. "What's up with _you_? You started blaring fucking Spice Girls at two in the morning and woke up all of San-An. Never one to turn down a party, I sauntered down to your trailer only to find the door's locked and you can't hear me pounding on your door. So, like a gentleman does, I wait. And boy, oh boy, did I hear _everything_." He raised his hands, began making scissor motions with his index and middle fingers, and crossed them together while wiggling his eyebrows. "You naughty little lesbo."

You stood in front of him with your mouth agape, not sure what to say. "M-maybe you should have minded your own business! I don't know what you heard, but you probably just didn't hear right."

Raising his voice in a falsetto to imitate Gabi's, "Aww, shit, [Y/N], ya just made me cum! Eat my pussy, [Y/N]! [Y/N], stick your finger so far into me it comes out of my mouth! My name's Gabi and I'm the loudest cummer on the fucking planet!" 

Your cheeks red and your teeth gritted, you asked, "How many people heard?"

"Just me," Trevor answered, "only because I was bored and leaning against your trailer totally not whacking off listening to the two of you. It's really a shame your curtains were drawn."

"You tell anybody and I'll fucking kill you," you snarled. Trevor continued to smirk at you.

"Hmm, kinky. Not if I kill you first, though! For real, though, you could at least tell a guy who's interested in you that you're gay. Or just let him sit and watch while you have fun with your fellow lesbians," he told you with a trace of sadness in his deep brown eyes. "All right, take your pick."

"I'm not gay. Not really." Still embarrassed, you decided to pick the box on the furthest right. 

"Perfect. Now open it in front of me," Trevor purred.

"This better not be a stupid fucking sex toy or something," you muttered as you ripped the newspaper off and opened the box to find a heavy pistol along with some attachments and ammo. "Oh, wow... thanks, man."

"Figured you could use one around here," he grunted, suddenly seeming to lose his cockiness. He broke eye contact with you as he hastily added, "I wouldn't want to lose you."

"Yeah, for sure," you murmured as you picked the gun up and felt your hands wrap around it. The cool metal felt indescribably smooth against your skin. 

"I got some bottles set up out back for aiming practice if you want to get your ass beat," he challenged as he stretched and looked at you inquisitively, awaiting your answer.

"Hah, you say that as if you think you could beat me. You're on," you said. He knew bits and pieces of your life back in Colter, but it seemed as if he didn't quite comprehend how good of a marksman you were-- after all, you were the one your parents trusted to go out and hunt for meat and defense. 

"I saw your aim back when we first met," he teased, seemingly reading your mind as the two of you went single-file down the Liquor Ace stairs. "You only shot three cops!"

"Yeah, but you forget," you began as he opened the door for you, "I wasn't aiming for the cops. I was aiming for their _wheels._ "

"Fair enough, I suppose," Trevor sighed as the cool feeling of air conditioning disappeared. You made your way around the back of the store to see a series of boxes stacked with bottles precariously perched atop. _How long did he take making this?_

"Wait-- don't we need the other guys?" you asked, recalling the other boxes left upstairs. 

Trevor shrugged. "Nope. Looks like it's just you and me, cupcake. I'll let you go first since you're a lady and all."

You walked up to the line made in the dirt and closed one eye as you aimed the pistol. You let out a quick exhale as you pulled the trigger. A glass bottle shattered, knocking one to its left over and causing it to split as it hit the ground, too. "[Y/N], two; Trevor, zero!" you shouted triumphantly. 

Trevor snorted. "Rookie numbers." Quicker than the blink of an eye, Trevor brandished a pistol, seemingly out of nowhere, and took out three bottles with one bullet. "[Y/N], two; Trevor, _three_!"

The pair of you slowly made your way through the course Trevor had set up. Your scores remained relatively tied throughout as you made small chat between shots. 

"So, when you say 'not gay' even though you fucked a girl last night, what's that supposed to mean?" Trevor asked awkwardly.

Caught off guard by the question, you replied, "I guess I'm bi. I prefer guys over girls, but, I mean, Gabi's really the only girl I've ever liked like that. We're just friends still, though."

"Huh," Trevor muttered. "Didn't know there was a word for that. I feel you, sugar."

You flashed him a look of surprise. With all the nudie posters and porn mags you'd seen in his trailer while cleaning, you wouldn't have taken him to ever give so much as a second glance to another man. You wondered if the two of you were in the same boat, both being attracted to your closest friends. You decided not to press it in fear of agitating his unstableness and continued your competition until you were down to the last crate.

"We're tied. Call it a draw?" you asked Trevor. 

He gave a snort. "Fuck, no! The last crate I prepared for this exact scenario. Not that I thought it'd happen in a million years. Five bottles are lined up all wonky behind one another. You shoot, then replace the bottles, then I shoot. Whoever shot through the most bottles wins. Wanna place a bet?"

"Hmm. What's your bet?" 

"I don't know. I didn't think that far ahead. Uh... tattoo!" he declared.

"Elaborate on this tattoo deal," you said, suspicious of Trevor's intentions.

"If you win, you can tat anything you want on my right arm. If you lose, I get to tattoo anything I want on _you."_

"Sounds like a deal. Start getting your arm disinfected, loser," you breathed as you aimed. _Boom._ You'd shattered three bottles. "Let's see you beat that, Philips."

"I was _born_ to beat it, [L/N]," Trevor chuckled naughtily as he restacked the bottles and took his shot. "Fuck! God fucking _damnit!"_ He'd only shattered two. He ran up to the crate and began throwing the unshattered bottles forcefully against the back of the Liquor Ace. Once all the bottles were decimated, he glumly trod up to you, giving you an annoyed glance. "You know how to stick and poke?"

"Who wouldn't know how to stick and poke?" you chuckled. You headed for the front of the building with Trevor in tow. "Are we doing this now or at some other time?"

"Now." You gave a shrug as you climbed into your respective vehicles and drove to your trailer. You opened your home's door to find Gabi throwing a crumpled up piece of paper around as she played a game of fetch with your cat. 

"Took you long enough, [Y/N]!" she said cheerily. Her smile quickly disappeared as soon as she saw Trevor walking in. "What's crazy over here for?"

"Look, Gabi," Trevor began as he stared at her unblinkingly, "I should have asked you to come with me instead of just taking you. I can make it up to you by getting you a ride back there."

Gabi glared at Trevor as she bit her lip in frustration. After a long moment of silence, she finally said, "I don't want a ride up there. I want an apology." You internally groaned as the two of them began to shout at each other in the most stubborn, stupid argument you'd ever heard.

"Both of you! Shut up!" you hollered above the quibbling. They both fell silent and looked at you in surprise. "Trevor, apologize to Gabi."

"Sorry," Trevor muttered to Gabi while baring his teeth. His fists were clenched to the point where his knuckles were ghostly white. You finally realized his full knuckle tattoo set read "FUCK YOU". _Fitting._

"Thank you for the apology, shithead. And I'll pass on going back to Ambarino. I've wanted to get out of there for awhile and now here I am with my best friend. I'm not leaving unless she leaves." 

Trevor's eyes flashed a quick look of confusion, frustration, sadness, and... _fear?_ Quick as it came, the look had gone and he rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Why would I care? Saves me time and money." He turned his gaze to you. "Got a plan in mind?"

You mischievously smirked. "Oh, yeah. Sit down on the couch and make yourself comfy." You grabbed a pen, some rubbing alcohol, and a needle, then walked over to the couch to kneel as you disinfected his right arm. Trevor gave you a hard stare, one of challenge, as you got to work on your masterpiece. Three minutes later, you were done. "Voila."

The finished product was one you were satisfied with; it was two small dots diagonal from each other. Trevor looked at it and scowled. "What the hell is it?"

"Two stars. Polaris A and Polaris B. They're the north stars," you began to explain. 

"Huh. At least they'll fade quick," Trevor muttered as he got up. He turned around and cast a glance to you, then it flicked to Gabi, then back to you. "I have shit I need to do."

"Wait!" Gabi said. "[Y/N] told me you own a business. Are you looking for any new employees?"

Trevor said nothing at first, only casting the olive-skinned girl an amused glance. Finally, he said, "I don't think that's what [Y/N] would want. Plus, you're annoying." Her face twisted up in offense and confusion as he walked out. 

Gabi turned to you. "What does he mean, '[Y/N] wouldn't want' me? Do you just want me sitting around freeloading?"

"No," you began awkwardly. Despite Gabi's vices and sins, you still saw her as somewhat wholesome. You didn't want to tell her you killed cops your first day in Los Santos. You struggled to find the right words. 

"What, is he a big time drug lord?" she said jokingly. You bit your lip.

"You said it, not me."

"Shit, he has weed and the man's been holding out on me?"

"Not weed. It's a bit stronger than that. He also deals with--" you began coughing. "Weapon trafficking."

Gabi slowly sunk down to the floor processing the information before snapping her eyes back to you. "You could have told me that in the first place and saved us all a lot of trouble, [Y/N]. Everything makes sense now!" 

You gave an awkward chuckle. "If only you knew the half of it."


	13. Chapter Thirteen

You'd officially been in San Andreas for nearly two months. Gabi had settled into your trailer and had gotten a weekend job at a nearby bar. 

"You would not _believe_ the crackheads I saw tonight!" seemed to be her new catchphrase every time she walked through the door in the early hours of the morning. The two of you typically shared the bed with Gabi occasionally sleeping on the couch if she came home when you were sleeping. You hadn't had any sex since your inebriated encounter and you were hoping on keeping it that way. 

Every other day you ran around doing odd jobs at odd times for Trevor. It was mostly menial tasks like transporting things to and from places by yourself, sometimes with Wade or Trevor. You'd made a decent amount of money from it; almost enough to go back home. Part of you insisted on staying, though. You weren't sure if it was because you were homesick or if you were scared of what Trevor would do should you leave. _Honestly, at this point, I'm surprised he's paying me. If I don't have money, I can't leave_ , you thought as you got dressed for the day and put some makeup on. 

It had been two days since the last time you'd had to do a job for Trevor, and even longer since the pair of you had hung out. You had to admit it, you missed hanging out with his unpredictable ass and listening to his playful banter.

You began to sit on the couch and, as if your mind had been read, a knock sounded on the door.

"Can you get it?" Gabi shouted from the bedroom. You gave a grunt in response as you heaved yourself off the couch, approached the door, and opened it to find Trevor grinning. 

Before you could say anything, he moved past you and began pacing. "Guess what? Guess what?" he repeated as he walked back and forth. He seemed more energized than usual.

"I don't think I could ever guess what's going on in your head," you sighed. 

He made a loud buzzer sound. " _ENNGH_! Wrong! I found out from a very trusted source that some _very very very_ nice supplies're on a boat north of Paleto Bay. The only problem is that the MC has ahold of it. Those fuckers seem to pop up like rabbits. I can never get rid of them. You and I and Mikey are gonna drive up there, take the guns, and run. I'd have Franklin drive, but he's not picking up my calls for some reason."

"Alright, sounds good, I guess. When are we doing it?"

"Now."

"O-oh, okay. Where's Michael?" you asked, slightly frustrated at the short notice. 

"I still need to ask him," Trevor said while holding a finger up and whipping his phone out. He called Michael and put him on speaker.

"What do you want?" Michael groaned.

"Road trip, porkchop! You, me, and [Y/N] are going up to Paleto Bay to grab some military grade boom boom sticks," Trevor said cheerfully.

Silence occurred for a moment on the other side of the phone, then Michael gently yet sternly said, "T, I told you. I'm _done._ That job we did two months ago was because I owed you. No more. You're gonna have to find someone else."

"Come on, man," Trevor whined. "Don't ya miss the old times? Us against the world out on the road? Nobody to fear but fear itself? Do it for _me_. Hey, I'll even give you 40% of the profits if you want..."

A long sigh came from over the phone. "Okay, okay. Fine. One condition, though-- don't tell Amanda or the kids. They'll kill me."

"Sure, sure, sure. Now get your ass over to my place!" Trevor hung up and pumped a fist in excitement before quickly putting it down and staring at you. "I'm gonna go get ready. See you in about an hour," he said before going out the door as suddenly as he'd arrived. 

Gabi peeked out from behind the bedroom door with a look of amusement on her face. "What was _that_ about?"

"Nothing, just a job I gotta do soon," you replied nonchalantly. 

"I can't believe that dick's making you drive all the way to Paleto Bay and back. That's gotta be, what, a five hour drive?" she laughed after walking out and seeing the coast was clear.

"No, it can't be!" you scoffed as you pulled out your phone and searched for the distance from Sandy Shores to Paleto Bay.

 _Four hours and 55 minutes,_ the GPS told you. You groaned.

"Ha, ha! [Y/N] is stuck with a DILF and a creepy neighbor for the next ten hours!" Gabi remarked with a smirk on her face. She gently pushed your shoulder. "Buck up, buttercup. At least you'll... have... bonding time with them?" Her initial smirk turned into a grimace of sympathy as she improvised her sentence.

"Thanks for the kind words," you said sarcastically. "What are you going to do while I'm gone?"

Gabi twitched her lips as she sunk into deep thought. "Hmm. I might redecorate..." she murmured as she looked around the trailer. You had to admit, it was pretty dismal as far as trailers went. "I just got a paycheck. You know, I've been sending nudes all this time for free when creepy old dudes give me money for _foot_ pics! Who'd've thunk."

"Not me," you sighed while trying to figure out what you may need for a ten-hour drive. _Phone, keys, wallet, smokes, something to eat and drink..._ As you thought, you grabbed a Monster out of the fridge, then opened your pantry to grab some raisin-free trail mix. You got out the backpack you used to travel across the country. _If I get off driving duty, I could always use a book_ , you realized as you stuffed a library book you were renting into the backpack. _And a pillow. I still may need to use it even if I am driving. Those seats are_ not _comfortable. I just know they're gonna make me take my car._

By the time you'd packed, your phone buzzed with a notification from Michael.

 _I'm close. Be there,_ it said. 

"All right, Gabi. Time to go. Be safe, don't bring anybody into the trailer, and please take care of Sadie for me."

Gabi dutifully nodded. "I wouldn't dream of it. Not the 'taking care of Sadie' part, the 'bringing people into the trailer' part. I'm not gonna do that. Probably."

"See ya," you said with a wave as you opened the door and exited the trailer. You hopped into your car and drove down the street at the same time Michael's black Tailgater was pulling into Trevor's dirt driveway. Restraining a grunt of annoyance he'd taken the spot you were planning on parking, you instead parked on the side of the street and headed up to the front porch. Michael met you there and opened Trevor's door without bothering to knock. Not wanting to know what the consequences of that may be, you stood back from the door so you couldn't see into the trailer at all. 

"Christ, Mikey! I'm naked!" Trevor exclaimed. In a lower, more sultry voice, you heard him murmur, "You want a little one-on-one fun naked guy pal time, big fella?"

Michael immediately powerwalked out of the trailer with a hand over his eyes and brushed past you, unintentionally shoulder-checking you in the process. He yelled, "Get some clothes on, you hipster, then get in the fuckin' car!" 

You began to walk down the porch steps then stopped, wavering between waiting for Trevor and entering the driver's seat. After a couple minutes, Trevor exited the trailer, wearing clothes. He was wearing something which deviated from his typical outfit; instead of his classic stained white t-shirt and dark jeans, he wore a pink tank top with the word "PUSSYCAT" emblazoned across it along with some long off-white shorts. As he walked past you, you noticed he smelled of something that wasn't alcohol and filth, for once; he'd actually showered in the hour he'd given you and seemed to have put on some cologne.

"What're you waiting for? Let's go," Trevor grunted. You got into the driver's seat, tossed your backpack behind your seat, and noticed Michael in the passenger's seat continually hitting the lock button for his door as Trevor angrily banged on the window. "Gimme that seat!" he yelled as he glared at Michael.

"Alright, fine," Michael conceded as he unlocked the door and got out of the car. "Backseat means it's easier for me to sleep, anyways," he grumbled under his breath as Trevor hurriedly climbed into Michael's old seat. 

"Fuck you, porkchop, you warmed the seat up for me," Trevor snapped as Michael slid his way into the back. You began to drive off while periodically looking at your phone's GPS to make sure you were heading the right way. As you drove, Michael and Trevor began bickering.

"T, I'm telling you, Burger Shot surpasses all other restaurants," Michael debated.

"Yeah, of course a _fatass_ would say that!" Trevor shouted, turning his body so he was facing Michael.

"Yeah, my fat ass is a restaurant connoisseur! I'd know best!" Michael shouted back, now raising his voice to match Trevor's.

"Will both of you just shut up?" you moaned. They quickly fell silent. "Christ. Trevor, put some music on. I'm trying to merge and there's a lot of traffic right now."

"I suppose," Trevor sniffed. He turned the radio on to find it was tuned to Radio Rebel. "Glad to see you have at least a crumb of decent taste, [Y/N], unlike that sad sack of shit in the back." 

"Come _on_!" Michael nagged. "Nobody likes that stupid hick shit. Change it to pop or something!"

As the two broke out into another petty argument, you simply switched the radio to a talk channel discussing GMOs. "There! Now you both get to suffer and listen to science."

"Ooo," Trevor mimicked you, "Science! Now, _that's_ something I can get behind!" He started drumming his hand on his lap to every syllable the monotonous voice on the radio spoke. After about fifteen minutes of nobody in the car speaking, Trevor broke the silence. "Let's play a game of Truth or Dare. [Y/N], truth or dare? Oh, dare? Okay, I dare you to go faster!"

"There's too much traffic for me to go faster, Trevor," you snapped before he could continue his tirade. "And there isn't a lot of dares we could do in the car, anyways."

"You're right, I suppose," Trevor said with a sigh. "But five hours is a _lot_ of time to fill..."

"Figure it out. Michael, could you grab my earbuds out of my backpack?" you asked. 

As Michael unzipped it and rifled through the contents, Trevor said, "Come on! That's cheating." 

You gave him a glare of annoyance and said, "I'm the driver. I can do whatever I want to, so shut up." A hand holding your earbuds came between the you and Trevor and you snatched them. "Thank you, _Michael_."

You plugged your earbuds into your phone and hit shuffle on your music. The traffic was beginning to thin out, so you took the liberty of speeding up. as your favorite artist blared into your ears. As the songs changed, you let your thoughts drift as you occasionally snuck a glance at Trevor and Michael to see how they were doing. Trevor had fallen asleep with his head on the dashboard as well as Michael, who had stolen your pillow and was using the entire backseat as a mattress. _Looks like it's just me_ , you thought to yourself. 

"You have twenty miles until your next destination," the GPS said over your music, causing you to jump a little in surprise. You put your earbuds in your pocket and woke Trevor and Michael up by hitting the brakes repeatedly. 

"Fuck! I could've gotten a concussion or something," Trevor snarled as he cast you a dark look of annoyance. 

"Yeah," Michael agreed grumpily.

"Well, we're almost there. What's the plan?" you asked. Either one of them answering would be sufficient.

"Come on, Trevor. Enlighten us," Michael said.

"I will if you two idiots would shut up and let me speak! Here's the plan. Alright, the van full of guns'll be parked behind the Bayview Lodge. If there's nobody near it, it should be an easy grab. If not, we're all good shots and we'll take the MC down quick and quiet. [Y/N], you're gonna drive. Michael will be passenger and I'll stuff myself in the back, defending our cargo if necessary." As he spoke, Trevor took your phone and adjusted the GPS to go to the specific location. "Do a slow drive-by so we can scope it out," he added.

As you drove, you realized something. "Hey, how am I gonna get my car back? This is a stupid plan." 

"I'll get Wade and Ron to come up here on a gay little vacation and take it back down to Sandy Shores," Trevor figured with a shrug. He slapped the dashboard. "Not like anybody's gonna miss _this_ baby!"

" _I_ will! It's my only vehicle," you groaned in annoyance. 

"Hey," Michael said, "you could always use the one we're gonna steal in the meantime." 

"I suppose," you conceded. 

"Okay, shut up," Trevor said. "We're getting close. Pay attention." 

You slowed so you were five miles under the speed limit as you drove past the lodge. There were several beefy biker men relaxing around a black van with The Lost's maroon insignia printed onto it. 

"That's gotta be the one," you breathed, instinctively brushing your dominant hand against your waist to make sure you had a weapon to defend yourself with. 

"You're fuckin-A right that's the one."


	14. Chapter Fourteen

You flipped a U-turn once the Bayview Lodge was out of sight; this time, Trevor and Michael's windows were closer to the lodge than yours. You rolled their windows down and felt sticky, hot air fill the car as you progressively slowed down. 

"You ready?" Trevor asked as he loaded his gun and gave you a side glance of curiosity.

"Ready as I'll ever be," you replied grimly. You'd been hoping the van would be unattended to avoid tragedies, but you supposed it had to come sooner or later with the job. Michael's face didn't betray whatever he may have been thinking, and Trevor's eyes had a hungry, malicious, and dark gleam to them as if he looked forward to slaughtering the guards. He took his left hand off his gun to briefly fidget with his shorts and you noticed there was a quickly-rising lump beneath the pale cloth. _Jesus Christ, does he get_ off _on this? Sick fuck._

As you approached the lodge, Michael and Trevor slowly tensed in unison and aimed their guns at two of the guards before letting fire. The guards they were aiming at fell to the ground while the other Lost members scrambled to get their guns and began firing at your car. You drifted behind one of the lodge's buildings so all of you could get out without being shot at. After you all jumped out, you went back in to grab your backpack, then locked the doors. 

"You really had to grab that?" Trevor shouted in amusement. You gave a shrug as you used your car for cover to aim and fire. A sick twist engulfed your stomach as you watched the man you'd just shot keel over and die. This wasn't a hunting trip, and these weren't elk. They were humans. They probably had brothers. Or sisters. Parents and kids...

"Quit overthinking it and keep moving!" Michael shouted over the cacophony as if reading your mind. _He's right._ You ducked, reloaded, and continued picking off the guards until the three of you were close enough to get in. "All right, let's go," Michael grunted as he opened the passenger door.

As you climbed into the driver's seat, a heavy force pushed you forward. You slammed the door and looked behind you only to find there was nobody there who could have moved you so forcefully. You moved your thoughts to the situation you were currently preoccupied in and noticed the keys were in the van. _What kind of idiot leaves the keys in?_ you thought as you turned on the ignition. You did a quick visual sweep to make sure everybody was in the van; Michael was beside you and Trevor was behind you looking at his new toys.

You hit reverse, did a 180, and began driving away at full speed. "Fuck," you said in excitement, "that seemed too easy!" You slapped the side of the steering wheel, unable to control your energy, then quickly grabbed it as something pushed the van sideways. You looked out your rearview mirrors and saw MC vans on either side of you.

"Shit," you thought aloud, "is this a setup?"

"No! It can't be! Probably can't be... I don't know," Trevor said as he poked his head between the front seats and examined what you were up against. 

"Goddamnit, Trevor!" Michael moaned while pressing his hands to his temples. "You need some better sources."

"Shut up and let me think!" you snapped as the two began to bicker over Trevor's source and their credibility. You slowly inched ahead of your pursuers as you hit the gas with all your might. Trying your best to keep a level head, you examined the sides of the road in an effort to find a place to turn into. _That's it!_ You spotted a dirt road not too far away. You took a deep breath and shouted, "Hold on!" as you made a 90 degree turn into Paleto Forest. 

"Jesus fucking fuck!" Trevor shouted as everything began falling onto him. 

Attempting to stifle a laugh, Michael managed to say with a straight face, "So, are there actually guns in there? Or was I right?"

Trevor opened one of the boxes and pulled a rifle out. "You tell me, Porkchop! Some setup this was. You're a dumbass, Michael."

Annoyed his hypothesis could have been wrong, Michael said back, "Maybe they thought we'd be easy to gun down so they didn't bother putting empty boxes in a stupid fucking van!"

"The world will never know," you interrupted. "Now, both of you, shut the fuck up and let me concentrate!"

The vans were still on your tail as you maneuvered the precarious dirt path in silence. Michael rolled his window down, pulled out his gun, and began to fire at them. The path began forking. You took a random one and kept going until you came to another fork. As you drove, there seemed to be at least twenty forks you'd had to choose between. You glanced down at the clock on the dashboard and saw you'd been driving away from the Lost for nearly an hour. _Fuck, I'm never gonna get home at this rate._

"It looks like I got 'em all," Michael said unsurely. "Better keep driving just in case."

Feeling a little bit safer than before, you let out a sigh of relief and continued to drive with the gas pedal's pressure lessened. The sun was now shyly peeking behind the horizon and long shadows were eerily cast across the road. After thirty additional minutes of driving, none of you had seen any signs of the Lost. 

"Fuck," you spat angrily. "Do either of you know where we are?"

"No. You don't have signal on your phone and neither do I. I'd be surprised if Trevor had any," Michael reported.

"I think we're in Paleto Forest," Trevor said. You turned around and shot him a look of annoyance.

"Thank you, dipshit, but I don't want to live in Paleto Forest for the rest of my life with you two idiots because we're so hopelessly lost," you replied.

Trevor leaned between you and Michael's seats and faced you with a malevolent smile. His voice was barely above a whisper as he uttered, "[Y/N], if we're gonna be stuck out here, you should _really_ play nicer with Trevvy-poo. I think we'd all hate to see your dead body with holes carved into it. You wanna know why those holes are there? 'Cause _that's_ where I put my boy. Michael can join in if he wants to." 

He began rhythmically shaking your seat, slowly at first, then faster and faster until Michael hit him on the back of the head and exclaimed, "Trevor! Knock it off! You're gonna scare her."

You said nothing, not wanting to give Trevor the satisfaction of the attention he was so obviously craving. You instead looked down at the van's dashboard and sucked through your teeth when you saw the amount of gas you had left. "I really hate to say this, but I think we're gonna have to make camp for the night. There's only a quarter-tank left and I'd rather have daylight to help me figure out where I should go." You grunted in discomfort as you turned off the ignition; in your haste to enter the van, you'd forgotten to take your backpack off and instead had sat against it as you'd driven.

"Fuck, seriously?" Michael grumbled in annoyance. "I'm hungry."

"Typical Michael," Trevor chimed in. He began making pig noises, then abruptly stopped once Michael turned around in his seat and began wildly waving his arm toward Trevor.

"I packed myself some snacks we can all divvy out, I guess," you said as you begrudgingly took your backpack off and opened the zipper to hunt for food.

"Hold on. [Y/N], stay very still," Michael breathed. He slowly took the backpack from you and you snatched it right back.

"What are you doing?" you snapped. "I'm perfectly capable of looking for _my_ things I put in _my_ backpack." 

As you took your backpack away from Michael, his eyes widened and he put his hands up in panic. "No, what are _you_ doing? There's a fuckin' bullet hole in your backpack." His voice had tones of gentleness, firmness, and panic as he yanked the backpack out of your hands and spun it around so you could see the front. Sure enough, there was a bullet hole near where your spine would be. You went slack-jawed.

"F-fuck," you stammered. You felt your entire mouth go dry. In a small voice, you whispered, "Am I gonna die?"

 _"NO!"_ Trevor nearly screamed. It was his turn to steal the backpack now, and he did it with such force you could feel the whole vehicle shake. "Do you feel anything? You can move your legs, obviously, so you're not paralyzed. You might not feel the wound because of, uh, adrenaline. Yeah, adrenaline." He continued thinking aloud, making your thoughts steer for the worst, until he let out a small gasp of delight. He pulled the book you'd rented out of the backpack; about an inch away from the spine was a bullet hole that only went 2/3 through the book. "You didn't get shot! You have terrible taste in literature, by the way," he added in a lighter tone.

"Thank God," you breathed raggedly, leaning your head forward so it was being propped by the steering wheel. You said to yourself, "Christ, I almost _died_."

"Yeah..." Trevor began. "But you _didn't_ die! It's a good thing you didn't follow my advice and took the backpack with you anyways. Now you're alive _and_ we have food." Trevor opened the book and shook it until the bullet fell out, then gave it to you. He closed your hands around it as he said, "Now _there's_ a souvenir you can take home and tell the family about."

"Trevor," Michael began gently, "I think you need to cool it a little with the jokes."

"It wasn't a joke, Michael! I was being serious about the souvenir thing. She _loves_ souvenirs, not that you'd know," Trevor barked.

"Okay. I'm gonna take a little walk by myself to clear my head and maybe... find some twigs we can use as a fire to ward cougars and whatnot off. You two go into the backpack and divvy up whatever I've got in there," you told them as you opened your door and exited the vehicle. 

You briskly walked away from the van until you found a pine tree near a clearing whose trunk width was twice as large as you. You crumpled down behind it and began violently sobbing. _I nearly_ died, you thought as you gnashed your teeth. _I would have never seen my family again. Never seen Gabi or Sadie again. There's so many things I want to do in my life._ Your chest was now violently heaving as you spiraled into an existential panic attack. _For some stupid fucking guns. My body count's only four. I'd never fall in love, I'd never own my own house... fuck, I don't even know what I_ want _to do, just that I've got so much to live for! My life can't possibly be worth a truckload of guns. I gotta get out of here._

"Hello? [Y/N], is that you?" Michael's voice called from the distance. You peeked behind the tree to see him trodding toward you in the nearly-dead daylight.

"Men don't know when to quit," you muttered to yourself as you quickly wiped your face with the collar of your shirt and cleared your throat. "Michael, I said I'd come back. You can go back to the van," you called out with a small tremor in your voice. He pinpointed your location and began jogging in your direction. _I don't think I've ever seen him move that quickly before,_ you thought with a faint smile on your face.

"I know, but there are times people shouldn't be left to their own thoughts. Being half an inch away from death- literally- is not one of those times," he said as he came up to you. He slouched against the tree and slid his way down so he was sitting next to you. In a softer voice he said, "If you want to leave, nobody will blame you. This-" he gestured back toward the van- "isn't for everybody."

You sighed in frustration and gazed into Michael eyes. "We're not all like you, Michael. I can't just... _leave_. Not when there's a ghost here that would haunt me." 

Michael had confusion written across his face at first, then guilt. "Oh. So you know? About North Yankton?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I know. Franklin gave me the run-down and I can tell that Trevor is _still_ hurting from it even though you've been back in his life for, what, a year and a half now? And you're wrong about your idea that 'nobody will blame me'. When I vaguely mentioned leaving eventually, not even this week or this month, Trevor took it upon himself to try and bring everything I love about where I'm from down here. He's annoying, and he's a pervert, but he cares about me. I can't just abandon him, and after all you've been through with him, I can't believe you'd suggest that," you bitterly vented to Michael.

He put an arm around your shoulder and pressed you close to him in a hugging fashion. As you gave a shaky inhale, you took notice of his cologne and the scent of his vices that clung to his clothes and skin. You leaned into him more and realized how comfortable he was to hold. In the midst of your self-pity, you'd almost forgotten all the small details about Michael that made your heart go aflutter, despite his lowly, snake-like ways of dealing with friendships. 

After a moment of staying in the cozy position, you let go and Michael removed his arm from around you. You got up and said, "We should get back to Trevor. He's probably eaten whatever we had for our shares."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Michael sighed, following your lead. He had a fistful of sticks and leaf litter that he threw in front of him into the clearing. You tilted your head when you head a metallic _thud_ arise from the ground where the heavier sticks landed. 

"Did you hear that?" you asked Michael as you pointed toward where the sticks landed. 

Michael gave a nonchalant shrug. "Yeah. Probably just a car hood or something."

Your gut told you to go toward where the noise came from and investigate what the source was. You went over to it and began brushing leaf litter off the ground to find what appeared to be... _cellar doors?_

"Whoa. Michael, come here," you called. There were only a few wisps of twilight rays mingling in the forest, so you wanted a second pair of eyes on the scene. "Does this look like basement doors to you, or am I completely out of it?"

"Hmm," Michael grunted as he bent down on one knee to investigate. He pulled out his phone and shone a flashlight. _I could have done that_ , you thought in annoyance. The phone revealed that there were two rusty, copper-green doors against the ground that were padlocked. 

Without thinking, you whipped out your gun and shot it open, causing Michael to curse at you and jump in surprise. "Sorry." Together, the two of you opened the doors to see a mysterious set of stairs lead into the ground. You shivered and put a foot over the hole before thinking better of it.

"I heard gunshots! Who's there?!" Trevor bellowed from a distance. You spun around to see his faint silhouette booking it towards you and Michael. "Why the fuck did one of you let off a round? Are you st--" his voice cut off as he saw the gaping hole in the ground. His gaze darted between you, Michael, and the hole. He slowly licked his lips and began walking down the concrete stairs. "Well, are you following me or are you guys boring funkillers?"


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the sexy time chapter y'all have been waiting for! It's about double the length of previous chapters. This chapter is a gift to a friend of mine who wanted more Michael x Reader, and although that's not what this is, I figured I could throw some in there.

You and Michael exchanged uneasy glances before reluctantly following Trevor into the hole. 

"Whee- _yoop!_ " Trevor kept shouting as he revelled in the echoes he was making. 

The stairs went down fifteen or twenty feet before there was level ground. Michael turned his phone's flashlight on to see what was in the odd forest dungeon.

"You should really conserve your battery," you told him.

"Well, you still have your phone and I wanna see what's down here," Michael snarkily replied. "See? Look, I found some sort of a switch thing." He tried pulling it down with one hand, but it seemed to be stuck. You nudged him over and yanked down on it as hard as you could with both hands. Once it went down, there was a second of delay before fluorescent lights began flickering from the ceiling. 

"Aww, fuck, you nearly blinded me! Ow!" Trevor shouted in annoyance as he bumped into a wall.

"Well, now we can actually see what's down here then get the hell out. This whole situation is giving me the creeps," you said with a shudder.

As your eyes adjusted to the light, you took in the details of what was in the basement. The walls were wooden panels stained with a deep purple color. There was a small kitchenette, a dining table, and some chairs perched around a coffee table. On the walls were what appeared to be some sort of awards alongside posters of a man with long-ish blonde hair. 

Michael's face turned into a scowl and he moved closer when he saw the wall decor. "Ugh. Fucking Lazlow Jones. Of course this is _his_ ," he spat. 

"Who's that? And how do you know whatever this place is belongs to him?" you asked.

"He's a stupid wash-out radio and TV show host. Fuckin' hate him. A few years back, celebrities had this trend where they built bunkers in case the world ended or something. You know, gullible rich people bullshit," Michael explained. He pointed to some words on one of the awards. "See? What did I tell you? This all belongs to Lazlow."

"Shut up and look what I found!" Trevor called. He pushed open a door, and the three of you crowded into the small room to explore what it had to offer. "Hmm, looks like we'll be sharing close quarters _tonight_." 

The new room was much smaller than the main room; it had much less to boast. Inside it was only a queen-sized bed with nightstands on either side of it and another door to the right of the room. You squeezed past Trevor and opened it to find a bathroom with a tub and a shower.

"Hey," you said, "he's also got a pretty nice bathroom setup in here."

"Really? Fuck, move it. I need to piss," Trevor said as he shoved you onto the ground and closed the door. 

"What the hell?" you murmured in frustration as Michael helped you up. 

"I guess he really couldn't wait," Michael chuckled. You went and sat on the bed with your feet dangling off.

"So, who's gonna stay here and who's gonna end up sleeping in the van?" you asked him. "Will you and Trevor take the van? Because it looks pretty comfy in here. I take back the whole 'place-giving-me-the-creeps' speech." You leaned back onto the bed, realizing just how nice and comfortable the mattress was. You let out a soft groan as you felt your back pop.

"What do you think this is, a high school lock-in?" Michael laughed. You felt the bed shift as Michael sat a foot away from you; you quickly sat up as you felt your body begin to slide toward him and readjusted yourself. "We're all adults here. It's a queen bed, and if somebody thinks everybody else is so repulsive, they can just sleep on the floor." He tapped his foot on the plush carpet to prove a point.

The bathroom door creaked open and Trevor's gaze darted between you and Michael. His lips were slightly parted in surprise and curiosity. "What's going on here that I wasn't invited to?" He quickly went to sit between you and Michael. His weight now caused the mattress to curve you and Michael into Trevor, to his delight. 

"Ah... [Y/N] and I were just figuring out sleeping arrangements," Michael stammered. He quickly looked away. _Is he... blushing?_

"Lover boy," Trevor breathed as he wrapped his arms around Michael, "is there something you wanted to share with the class?"

"T, knock it off. I'm serious this time," Michael said.

"Aww, Mikey, why can't we have some fun just like old times?" Trevor asked. As he said the last four words, he poked Michael's stomach. Trevor whipped his head to face you now. "[Y/N], what do you know about threesomes?" His head tilted and a grin slowly spread across his face as he awaited your answer.

Taken back by the brashness of Trevor's question, you struggled to formulate an answer. "Umm, I know it's three people having sex. Is that the right answer?" you stuttered.

Trevor looked harder at you, his deep brown eyes seeming to comb your thoughts, until he raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Whoa. Time out. Hold on. You've never _had_ one before, [Y/N]?" he finally asked. 

"Wh- no! Why are we even having this conversation?" you asked even though you already knew the answer. 

"Uhh, _hello_? Earth to [Y/N]? There's three of us, one bed. It's like a prophecy has been foretold. Mikey here never gets any from his wife, I haven't had sex for-" Trevor paused to think- "Jesus, over three months, and _you_ would get the experience of a lifetime! It certainly wouldn't be me and _Mike's_ first rodeo, so we've got a lot of tricks up our sleeves I think you'd enjoy plenty," he said in a low, almost growly, voice.

"Trevor, come on, stop it! I'm _married_." Michael said quietly. 

"That never stopped you- or Amanda- before. Besides, it's not like she'd find out unless you told her," Trevor countered.

"Ugh! Well, I'm pretty sure [Y/N] isn't interested," Michael grunted in annoyance. The two men slowly turned their gazes on you to hear your verdict.

"I need to use the restroom. You guys should probably get the food out of the van. See what's in the kitchen cabinets, too," you said. You got up, back facing them, and locked yourself in the bathroom to sit and think. You heard the two men bicker amongst themselves, then the talking faded as they walked away. "Finally," you grunted to yourself. _Peace and quiet._

 _I'm not gonna have a threesome with those two idiots,_ you thought. _Am I? Shit. Okay, let's lay out the pros and cons. Pros: Michael's pretty hot. I haven't gotten any dick since I started this stupid vacation- Jesus,_ Trevor's _gotten laid more recently than I have! Except Gabi. Do I really count her, though? Shit, I'm getting off track. Cons: They're both my parents' age and they're basically my bosses._ You stared at yourself in the mirror. _Plus I don't want it to go any further than what I've got going on with them right now. No way. I wouldn't mind Michael, though..._ you groaned to yourself as you hit the sink in frustration.

 _He has a wife, no way he'd chase after me. Maybe. I don't know._ The more you thought about having a threesome with anybody, let alone adding Michael into the mix, the hornier you found yourself. _Look, you want dick. They have dick that they willingly offered. Take it just for the night._ After giving yourself the mental pep talk, you gave yourself a faint smile and began fixing your makeup. You found a bottle of Listerine and gargled a shot of it. _Seems like I'm gonna get laid tonight._

After a couple more minutes of cleaning yourself up, you heard Michael and Trevor's voices again. You checked yourself out one more time again before opening the bathroom door. You turned the corner so you were standing in the doorframe of the bedroom and the main room. Michael was eating an animal cracker while Trevor carried your backpack. 

"[Y/N], you'll never guess what we saw out there! There was a _huge_ fucking raccoon. Biggest one I've ever seen, without a doubt," Trevor said while dropping the backpack and holding his hands apart to demonstrate the size of what he'd seen.

"Oh, cool," you said unsurely. It certainly wasn't what you were expecting him to say, but nothing he said could truly surprise you at this point. "Look, I was doing some thinking. Yeah," you said as your stomach churned in excitement and nervousness. 

"Yeah, what?" Michael asked you with an inquisitive gaze.

"What you guys were talking about earlier, you know," you said awkwardly, doing your best to hold your gaze. 

"Wait, are you serious? I didn't think that worked," Trevor said with a grin slowly spreading across his face.

"Yes, I'm _serious_. Now do it before I change my mind," you said while your eyes flickered between the two of them. They stood frozen for a moment with expressions of surprise before they slowly and simultaneously began walking toward you like starving cats who were hunting prey. 

Before you knew it, Michael had pressed you against the doorframe and was moving his hand up and down your side as he kissed you. Trevor gently pushed the two of you into the bedroom, making sure to keep his hands on you as much as he could as he did so. You stood beside the bed as Trevor joined Michael in kissing you, only Michael had managed to slip his tongue into your mouth while Trevor was licking and nibbling at your neck. You softly groaned into Michael's mouth as Trevor roughly grabbed your ass and Michael gently groped your boobs. 

"Let's get these clothes off, babe, huh?" Michael said as he stopped kissing you to take his shirt off. Michael then took your shirt off as Trevor hurriedly unhooked your bra and tore it off you before ripping his own shirt off. They both went back to clinging to you, each grabbing a breast as they ground their hips against your legs. 

"Fuck," you breathed as you felt quickly-firming boners prodding at your upper thighs. 

"That's _exactly_ what we're about to do to you," Trevor growled as Michael pushed you face-up onto the bed. They both looked down at you with insatiably hungry eyes. As Trevor unbuckled his belt, folded it in half, and cracked it against itself, Michael yanked your pants off. "Thong, huh?" Trevor chided as he eyed your choice of underwear and bit his lower lip. "Seems like this is what _you_ secretly wanted all along..."

Being topless with only panties and socks on while two men were standing over you staring heavily aroused you. You reached your hand beneath your thong to your groin and began massaging your clit. Michael breathed out heavily, unbuttoned his pants, kicked his shoes off, and pulled all of his drawers off, exposing his dick. You guessed it was around eight inches long and slimmer than average, but you didn't mind considering the generous length. 

"Jesus, Mikey," Trevor said as he reached for his friend's dick, "you'd think he'd've gotten a little fatter along with you!"

"Fuck you, Trevor," Michael snarled as he pulled away from Trevor and crawled onto the bed to the left of you. He slipped a hand beneath your thong and pushed your hand away so he could put two fingers inside of you. You sharply exhaled at his coarseness; to be fair, he _did_ have broad hands and you weren't fully wet yet. Trevor removed all his clothes as he watched Michael climb atop of you to do so, and you managed to get a look at his dick; it was an average length, but thicker than the handful you'd seen before. _Christ, he has big balls..._

"You suck at foreplay, Michael. Allow me to show you how a _gentleman_ does it," Trevor purred as he moved Michael's arm out of your panties and slid them to one side. He positioned himself between your thighs as his gaze darted between your face, your tits, and your crotch. He spread your legs with coarse hands as he began licking your inner legs, slowly working his way down to your sweet spot. Impatient, you kept trying to adjust your hips so he'd be closer to giving you head, but he held your body firmly in place. _"You_ need to learn some patience, missy."

Michael ran his hands over your boobs as he got on his knees and inched himself closer to your face. As he gently tapped his cock against your cheek, Trevor finally began to eat you out, circling a finger around your clit as he did so. You took Michael's dick in your left hand and began to jerk him off, moaning as Trevor stuck his tongue as deep inside you as he could. 

"Come on, give me a little more," Michael insisted as he pushed his hips closer to your lips. You made eye contact with him as you licked the head, then began bobbing up and down on it, swirling your tongue around it as you did so. "Fuck, yeah, baby. Gimme that midlife crisis I've been yearning for." You were pleasantly overwhelmed by the attention you were receiving and continued working your hips into Trevor's face as Michael laced his fingers into your hair and began moving you up and down his shaft. 

Trevor gave Michael a tap on the shoulder. "Whenever you want it." Michael took himself out of your mouth, moved toward your legs, and flipped you over so you were on your hands and knees. 

"There you go," Michael breathed. He pulled your panties off, then you felt his tip brush back and forth against your pussy several times before he pushed it in. "Oh, yeah. Oh, _yeah_."

As Michael worked up a steady rhythm behind you, Trevor made his way toward your face and gently grabbed your jaw while bending down to kiss you. You moaned as you slipped your tongue into his mouth and he soon followed suit. Michael put his hands around the small of your back as he began to move quicker. 

Trevor quit kissing you and moved upwards. You groaned in delight as he stretched forwards; you felt his hands trail their way down your back until they met Michael's. At the angle he was in, his cock was pressing against your face, jerking and twitching and begging to be let into your mouth. You opened it and nearly thought your jaw was going to be dislocated. He started humping your face at the same speed Michael was pounding your pussy, and you felt like you were going to melt from the pleasure. 

"Oh, shit, I'm cumming," you moaned with a mouthful of dick. You gave a shriek of delight and pressed your hips as close to Michael as you could, riding the high of the orgasm and relishing the feeling of two men inside you at once. You moved Trevor's dick from your mouth to your hand for a moment so you could turn your head and watch Michael ride you. To your surprise, you turned your head to see Trevor passionately making out with Michael. You abruptly turned your head back, feeling as if you weren't supposed to see that, and continued to move your head up and down Trevor's length. His balls began slapping against your chin as he started moving faster. 

Abruptly, Michael pulled out of you and began walking into the bathroom. "What's happening?" you asked, wondering if Trevor had done something to provoke him.

"Oh, nothing's the matter," Trev or murmured with a full-blown grin across his face. "He's just seeing if his old pal Lazlow has any lube stored in that bathroom of his."

"I don't want to do any butt stuff," you said, alarmed. 

Trevor shot you a look of annoyance. "Well, it's a good thing it's not for you," he grunted. "Now get on your back." 

_Damn,_ you thought; you'd realized the lube wasn't for you, but for Trevor and Michael. You began turning over to obey Trevor, but you weren't quick enough for his short patience. He roughly grabbed your sides and flipped you around, causing you to yelp in surprise. He brought your upper torso upwards so he could kiss you and suck on your neck, then slowly let you go as he positioned himself between your legs. 

"Fuck, you're so tight," Trevor whispered as he slowly inserted himself into you. "Between you and me, this wasn't how I was expecting our first time to go, but I'm not complaining." You scoffed and shook your head, then gave a sharp inhale as he rammed himself into you and began raking his nails down your torso.

As Trevor continued fucking you, you could feel him riding you closer and closer to orgasm. He could tell by the way you breathed how close you were, so he took a hand off your torso and began choking you. The way he did it was somehow gentle; the way he grabbed your neck made it so you were still able to breathe okay. You let out a loud moan as you came on his dick and wrapped your legs around his.

"See? I knew you'd like riding the Trevor train," he cooed as he traced his finger down your jawline. Louder, he said, "Any luck, Mikey?"

"Found some, T," Michael called from the bathroom in a sing-song voice. Trevor froze and stared at Michael.

"Lube your dick up, then," Trevor begged. 

"Gimme a moment." Before opening the bottle, Michael grabbed some pillows and stuffed them beneath your butt. "You looked uncomfortable."

"You know who's uncomfortable?" Trevor snapped. "Me! I'm waiting for _you_!"

"Alright, alright," Michael murmured as he squeezed a quarter-sized drop of lubricant onto his dick and rubbed it around. He positioned himself behind Trevor; you could see one of his hands gently resting on Trevor's stomach above his FUCK COPS tattoo. "You ready?"

"I've _been_ ready since the last time we did this, Mikey," Trevor whined.

Michael said nothing more; rather, Trevor's facial expressions said it all for the pair of them. Trevor gasped and gripped you tightly as Michael slipped himself into him and began moving at the same rate Trevor was. If he hadn't been begging for it so bad, you would've thought he was in pain. Trevor began digging his fingers into you as Michael progressively went deeper and deeper. 

"Oh, shit! Gah, fuck! Oh, I _love_ you. I love you, I love you, I love you," Trevor moaned. You weren't sure if he was telling you or Michael this news, but judging by Michael's face, he seemed to reciprocate the feeling to a twinge of your dismay. 

Trevor let out a barkish whimper and thrust himself deeper into you than ever before, staying there and twitching for a few moments. You felt warm liquid quickly filling your insides. Michael stopped what he was doing so Trevor could ride out his orgasm inside you. Eventually, he released his grip on you and pulled out, bringing an opaque viscous trail of semen with him. 

He turned around to look at Michael. "I didn't say you were done yet." Michael had been watching Trevor pull out of you as if it were a trance, and Trevor's voice snapped him back to reality. He began going faster and harder than before. Trevor sunk his hands into the bedsheets and collapsed on your body, his face between your breasts.

"Oh, Michael! Ahh!" Trevor bit viciously into your inner right bosom as he orgasmed yet again, this time from his G-spot. He hit the mattress with balled-up fists a couple times before Michael slid out and let Trevor move so he wasn't between you and Michael anymore.

Michael looked your body up and down quickly before saying, "Get on your side." Curious as to what he had in mind, you did what he asked. He lifted your top leg so your foot was over his shoulder and slid himself in easier than ever thanks to the lube and the cum already inside of you. 

"Look at me baby, look at me!" Michael shouted as he went faster and faster. You thought he was talking to Trevor until he gently pulled your hair and twisted your head in his direction. "Oh! Oh, yeah, baby..." He went as deep as possible as he could; you gasped in pain and in that moment, you could swear he was all the way through your cervix. You felt him cum inside you, and you watched him pull out. His cum seemed clearer and more liquidy than Trevor's did. "Shit, did you see that, T? I still got it."

"I saw it, Mike. I saw it," Trevor murmured as he gazed at the two of you. "Now move." 

Michael quickly left the area he'd been occupying, causing your leg to clumsily fall. Trevor quickly resumed his former position from foreplay and caught your leg. He placed a hand on your stomach and a hand on your thigh as he began scooping the cum out of you with his tongue. You could clearly see his knuckle tats at this angle. _FUCK YOU is right..._

After a couple minutes of spending time between your legs, he brought his face to yours and brushed his lips against your nose. You tilted your head up, wrapped your arms around his, and began kissing him. He pushed a salty tongue into your mouth and a flood of liquid followed it. To your surprise, he hadn't swallowed the mixture of his own and Michael's cum. Annoyed he was pushing you to do it, you took your tongue and pushed the semen back into Trevor's mouth. A battle between mouths ensued between the two of you until you gave up, swallowed half of it, pushed the rest into Trevor's mouth, and exited the kiss.

Trevor rolled off of you and laid between you and Michael. Silence followed for several minutes until he asked, "You guys ready for round two?"

"Give me another hour," Michael grunted.

"Sorry, boys, but I'm not gonna go for a second round," you said. You'd just felt a tidal wave of drowsiness hit you. Between cumming on two different dicks within thirty minutes and almost getting killed, you were more and more attracted to the idea of sleeping by the second. You lifted the blankets over you and quickly let slumber envelope you.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

You awoke to an arm gently wrapping around your torso. You groggily opened your eyes; all the lights were off except the bathroom lights whose rays shone through a crack in the door. A battery-powered clock read that it was 3:17 AM. There was no noise save Michael's loud snoring. You grunted and tossed around a little in an effort to get the arm off you. _I made a mistake_ , you thought with a grimace. _I shouldn't have done any of that._

"Getoffame," you grumbled as the arm continued to persist.

"Tough luck, babe," Trevor hissed back, now grabbing you tightly. 

"I'm not your babe," you whispered. "It was a one-time deal. I had to get my mind off the existential dread and... things. Now let me go or else I'll piss myself right here and now." 

"Piss yourself? Hmm, you're lucky I'm into that," Trevor said as he released his grip. "I'll be here when you're done..."

You quickly got up and made your way into the bathroom, wincing as your eyes adjusted to the light. You relieved yourself, then went to the sink when you saw your physical state in the mirror and gasped. You were covered in hickeys, mostly on your neck; there were scratch marks down your stomach and back along with bruises from where you'd been held; and to top it all off, there was a bloody, bruised bite mark on your inner right breast. 

Not sure how to remedy your wounds, the first thing you thought of was to turn on the shower. As the water got to a comfortable temperature, you locked the door, then moved the curtain so you could hop in. 

You yawned and stretched as you washed the sweat and sex away. With no conditioner or shampoo available in the bunker, you'd have to go with a simple soap-down. You took the pine-scented soap and began working from your feet up. You were at your thighs when the shower curtain peeled aside.

Your first instinct was to ram a fist into whatever had pulled the curtain and exposed you. Unfortunately, that 'whatever' was Trevor. You self-consciously pulled the curtain around your body as he recovered from the blow.

"Why'd you do that?" Trevor hissed.

"Why'd _I_ do that? _You_ broke into the bathroom! I locked the damn door!" you retorted, trying to stay quiet so as not to wake up Michael.

"Yeah, and I unlocked it," he mocked as he eyed you up and down. "What's up with the curtain? I already know what you look like under there."

"Can I _please_ just take a shower without you bugging me?" you pleaded.

"No."

"Why?"

"I was lying in bed, thinking. Then, I realized I had a question for you that's kind of pressing." He stepped into the shower, blinking as water droplets grazed his eyelashes.

"Can it wait? I'm busy here!"

" _Could_ it wait? Yeah. _Will_ it wait? Now that I'm here, no." He stepped closer to you and you realized you'd backed yourself against the wall. "You're on the pill, right?"

"Seriously? You had to step inside the shower to ask me if I'm on birth control?!" You were exasperated at his nerve. "N-no. But it doesn't matter, does it? You guys are too old to, you know..."

"Fuck." He scowled at you. "The education system doesn't fail to fail, does it? That's not how it works, [Y/N]. Haven't you ever seen those celebrity men having their tenth kid at age 90?" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "You know what? Whatever. I'll get you a Plan B."

"Oh. Okay, I guess." You both stood in the shower; you were waiting for him to leave, and God knows what he was waiting for. Finally, he began to leave the shower when a question popped into your head. "Hey, wait."

He quickly returned and you could see him slowly becoming hard. "What is it?"

"Jesus, man, I'm not wanting sex. I just had a question- you don't have any STDs, do you?" you asked, not sure how he'd take the query.

"Do I _look_ irresponsible?" he asked, taking a step closer to you. 

"Yes. Very irresponsible."

"Fuck you, [Y/N]. The last time I got tested for anything was two months ago, so I've got the all clear. Can't say the same for our good friend Michael, though. You got anything?"

"Of course not!"

"That's what I thought." He continued to look you up and down, then his eyes settled on your neck. He reached out and tenderly touched it. You saw him begin to go soft. "I fucked you up pretty bad, huh?"

"That's not even the worst of it. Nothing a few days and some TLC won't fix," you said. 

"I'd ask to see the total damage, but I can guess what your answer would be," he murmured as he took his hand off you.

You laughed with a feeling you'd regret the next words to come out of your mouth. "Are you really that interested in seeing it?"

"Yeah. I like to admire my own handiwork."

You bit the inside of your cheek as you reluctantly let go of the shower curtain. The rungs supporting it made a _zrrp_ noise as it resumed its job. He looked at the wounds he'd inflicted closer now, almost seeming to ignore the fact there was a naked woman in front of him. He touched the bite mark and clenched his teeth.

"That's gonna become infected if you don't put some hydrogen peroxide on it," he told you. "There should be some in the medicine cabinet behind the mirror." 

"You think so, huh? Alright," you said as you turned the shower off. You stepped out, Trevor following you, and opened up the mirror. You grabbed the hydrogen peroxide bottle as Trevor unravelled some toilet paper to apply it with. He handed it to you, and you poured a generous amount on the toilet paper. You carefully dabbed at your skin, wincing at the hissing and stinging. 

"You want help?" Trevor asked. "You're going pretty easy on it."

You self-consciously covered yourself up again, this time by crossing your arms and repositioning your legs so Trevor couldn't see too much of you. _If I say yes, it might feel like it's gonna cross the boundary I set._ "No, I can do it myself."

"Wow, [Y/N], you're really out here trying to cover yourself up as if I wasn't tongue and balls-deep in your sweet, tight, little vagina not six hours ago," Trevor scoffed as he eyed you.

"You know what? Fuck it, whatever. Go for it," you grumbled, relaxing your stance and exposing yourself. Trevor took the wad from your hands, then firmly pressed it onto your bosom. You sharply inhaled through your teeth and let out a stream of curses.

"The more it burns, the more infected it is. See? I told you," Trevor insisted. As he continued to press, his hand subtly shifted until his pinky could reach out far enough to brush against your nipple. As soon as you noticed, you quickly stepped away and covered yourself back up.

"I already told you, Trevor. It was a _one-time_ thing. Unless Michael's wanting to join in, I don't want to do anything," you sternly told him. 

Trevor narrowed his eyes. "Michael. Michael, huh?" He began leaning against the bathroom door, making any chance of slipping past him to leave impossible. "Oh, I get it. You want _Michael_. You won't be able to get him- trust me, I've tried." As he spoke, there was a sadness lurking in his tone. He thrust his face close to yours. "What's wrong with _me_?" 

_Well, that's a pretty loaded question_ , you thought grimly before shaking the thought out of your head. "Nothing's _wrong_ with you, Trevor. I just... have... a lot of personal stuff going on," you said. _At least I'm sort of telling the truth._ "Can you move, please? I'd rather be wearing some clothes if we're gonna have this conversation."

"Be my guest," Trevor said as he stepped away from the door. "But don't expect _me_ to get decent."

You sighed, opened the door, and fumbled around blindly to find your clothes and put them on. After you were finally dressed, you made your way into the main living area with Trevor on your heels. He carefully closed the bedroom door then turned the lights on. After your eyes adjusted to the light, you noticed he was staring at you intensely.

"What do you want?" you muttered at him as you crashed onto a chair and let out a small yawn. 

"I want to know what this 'personal stuff' is." He sat down across from you spread eagle to your ever-growing discomfort.

"Well, Jesus, I don't see how the fuck it's your business," you snapped. You were beginning to get tired again, and you didn't have the energy for this conversation.

"When a guy- me- shows interest in somebody- you, the least he could have is an explanation as to why he's inadequate or at least not worth staying around." He paused for a moment as he collected his words. "I'll do anything. _A-ny-thing._ You want a pool? I'll get you a pool. You want the moon? I'll get you the fucking moon, and the sun too while I'm at it. I'll change my name, I'll cut my hair, whatever you want."

"That's the thing. I don't _want_ anyone to change for me," you said in exasperation. "What I want for the long run is somebody who I mesh well with. Somebody who shares the same goals as me."

"But we do mesh well. At least, I thought we did. Working together, hanging out together, in _bed_ together..."

"Trevor, our ideal lifestyles are way too different. Your ideal life is what you've got right now. Mine is, I don't know, _not_ having to go to sleep with the weight of people I killed on my mind. I don't want to be slinging drugs and guns my whole life, otherwise my life won't be that long. Someday, I want a committed lifetime partner who I can live with. We'll have a bunch of animals or maybe some kids or something, I'm not a fortune teller. But I want me to be happy, and I want _you_ to be happy, too. Do you understand?" You felt guilty saying this; you didn't want to hurt Trevor's feelings, but you didn't know what you wanted in the long run.

"No. No, I don't understand. What is it? Is it Gabi?" He tilted his head ever so slightly as he spoke as if he were a dog trying to understand astrophysics.

"Wh- no, it's not Gabi." _At least, I don't think so_. "I've also got a whole other nutcase relationship I'm still healing from. Plus, not that it's off-putting, but you're as old as my mom and it would be weird explaining that to my parents," you said awkwardly.

Trevor said nothing; he just looked at you as if he were expecting you to say 'Just kidding!' or change your mind. When you stayed silent, he let out a sigh. "Okay." He got up and sauntered over to your backpack, and he sat down to begin rifling around in it until he pulled out a small plastic bag with an opaque substance in it accompanied by a pipe and lighter. 

"I thought you weren't doing that anymore!" you exclaimed. Trevor gave you a look of contempt as he prepped the pipe.

"Huh. Of course you didn't notice. I've been high ever since I went to your place yesterday morning and told you the plan that led us here, and I think I'm feeling pretty fucking _low_ right now thanks to you, so excuse me," he seethed as he took an inhale of the methamphetamine, tilted his head up, and blew out a ring-shaped plume of smoke.

"Oh-ho-ho, you do _not_ get to blame this on me," you snarled as you marched over to him and yanked the pipe out of his hand. "You said you wanted to cut it off, so here I am cutting you off." You threw the pipe on the ground and began stomping on it, getting a small spark of euphoria from the power trip.

Trevor grabbed your foot and yanked you down roughly; as you fell, the back of your head hit the corner of the coffee table, causing you to let out a yelp of pain. 

"Yeah, that's what you fucking get, you bitch!" he bellowed as he shoved your foot aside to see what the damage was on his pipe. "You're lucky it isn't broken or else I wouldn't be responsible for what I do next."

You held a hand to the back of your head and felt a small amount of blood. "Oh, God. Can you hold on from smoking for another second? I'm bleeding, Trevor!"

"Yeah, and? You almost crushed my pipe. You don't do that. Not to _me_. Not when I'm in the middle of trying to get high. And I told you to drop it the moment after you found out about me trying to quit." He waved a hand dismissively. "Go fuck Michael or your girlfriend or whatever it is you're wanting to do. I really don't fucking care."

Knees shaking, you slowly stood up and made your way to the bedroom door. Before you opened the door, you turned and looked at him. _He's a fucking mess._ Shivering naked and smoking meth on the floor, he said nothing, only looking back at you. _Jesus, maybe it_ is _my fault... at least partially._

You made your way into the bedroom and eased your way onto the bed, wincing as your head hit the pillow.

"You okay?" Michael muttered softly.

"Shit. Did I wake you up? I'm sorry," you said back, feeling a twinge of guilt for waking Michael.

"Kind of. I just heard incoherent yelling, smelled window cleaner, and put two and two together," Michael said. The blankets shifted as he turned to face you. "Don't let him make you think it's your fault, all right? He's dug himself a nice, deep grave and he's the only one who can climb the ladder out."

"I'm just at a crossroads," you groaned. In the other room, you heard a chair being dragged across the floor. "Everybody wants something from me."

"What do _you_ want?"

"I just want to be left the fuck alone!" you moaned. "I wanted one night to just hit it and quit it and he's going off on me for not wanting to fucking date him. I don't understand it."

"Yeah," Michael said, "T's not one to let go of what he wants that easily. Give it a little longer."

"Michael," you began, "was Trevor like this before you up and left?"

Michael gave a bitter chuckle. "He was definitely crazy. He's always been a wild card, always been in the crime game. We mostly robbed banks and pulled off smaller heists back in the day. He wasn't a kingpin-slash-meth-addict level of criminal, if that's what you're asking."

"Well, do you think he'd ever be able to quit crystal?" you asked. You didn't want to give Trevor's secret desire to quit away, but Michael knew him better than anybody. 

"I mean, not without somebody sitting on top of him like it's their job," Michael figured. "I don't know. Trevor isn't my responsibility, so I don't concern myself with it. If he really wanted to kick the habit, he'd probably tell somebody and hope they kick it for him, or at least die trying. He wouldn't want to kick it unless there was an epiphany he had or something, though."

You cringed a little at the coincidental shade Michael had unknowingly directed at you. "Fair enou-" 

Before you could finish your sentence, the door to the bedroom swung open and the smell of freshly-smoked meth wafted into the room, causing your nostrils to burn. 

"Hey-hey-hey, Uncle T's back and better than ever!" Trevor exclaimed. "Who's ready to fuck and rock and roll?"

"Not now, T," Michael told Trevor. "You should get some sleep."

"When I've just woken up? Come on, Mikey! You know better than that!" Trevor laughed. You felt the bed groan as he threw himself between you and Michael. "I want to play..."

" _Trevor_!" Michael bellowed. "Knock it the _fuck_ off. This is the last warning before we go and drive off without you. Is that what you want? To be left here all alone?"

"You're both such buzzkills," Trevor sighed. He wiggled beneath the covers and between you and Michael. The smell of meth was so overwhelming you began to feel ill. You scooched away from him and turned away while putting a sheet over your nose. Within a couple minutes, both the men were snoring away. The time on the clock said it was 4:28. 

You tried your best to sleep, but all you could think about was Trevor. You tossed and turned as the clock slowly ticked. _How the fuck do I deal with Trevor?_


	17. Chapter Seventeen

"All right. We got everything?" you asked Michael and Trevor. You were in the driver's seat with Trevor in the passenger's seat and Michael sitting in the back of the van. 

"Think so," Michael said. He glanced at his phone. "I still don't have any service."

You whipped your phone out of your pocket and checked hopefully. "I don't have any service, either. Trevor, do you?"

"Yeah," he grunted. He took his phone out and programmed his GPS to have Sandy Shores as the destination. He gave a scoff. "We're really in buttfuck nowhere, huh?"

"Wait," Michael said, "why are you the only one who has service, T? Have you had service this whole time?"

"Yes, I have. Maybe if you cared a little, you would have asked," Trevor sniffed in disdain as he glowered at Michael.

"Are you _shitting_ me?" you said incredulously. "We could have avoided everything that happened last night if you'd just told us!" You smacked the steering wheel in anger.

"Consider it a lesson on why communication's important, hun," Trevor said with a dark smirk. 

"Jesus H. Christ," you hissed. "Give me that phone so I know where I'm going. And set it to a gas station, too."

The ride home was relatively silent. The radio was faintly playing West Coast Classics, but you were mostly lost in your own thoughts. _I could have never gone through the clusterfuck of last night if he'd just told us, and he knew it the whole time! Who does that?_

You dropped the van along with Trevor and Michael off at Trevor's trailer before walking the rest of the distance home. Your hips protested as you made your way down the street and you made sure your hair covered your neck. The closer you got to your trailer, the more clearly you could hear pop music blaring from it. When you got into closer sight, you realized it had been fully painted on the exterior. _Thank you, Gabi. At least I got one win._

You opened the door to hear Fergalicious accompanied by oboxious off-key singing. You were pleasantly surprised to see the interior of your abode had drastically changed. The walls were now painted coral pink with white trimming at the tops and bottoms. Gabi had rearranged the furniture and hung odd yet tasteful decorations on the walls. To your surprise, you saw there was a new TV in the living room. Gabi had her back turned to you as she eyed herself in your bedroom mirror. 

"Hey," you said above the cacophony.

"Wh- Oh my God, [Y/N]. You would not _believe_ the time I had while you were gone," Gabi chattered as soon as she stopped singing. She quickly turned the music off. As you looked closer at her, you realized her pupils were unusually dilated. "I played poker with a dopey juggalo and some dude who smelled like ointment and cat piss and I won $5,000, and _then,_ as if it weren't enough, I..." she started giggling and snorting. "They had a whole bunch of drugs and shit hanging out beneath a blanket and I fucking stole them! They're under the bed. Those dumbasses didn't even notice. I tried a sample and, well, look around to see how well they worked. Trevor Philips Industries, move over, here comes Gabi Geddes!" She began twirling around with her arms in the air, then landed with an embrace to your neck.

"Wait, are you talking about _Ron and Wade_?" you asked. 

Gabi removed her arms from you, tilted her head 90 degrees, and gave an exaggerated shrug. "Maybe. Those names sound right." As she spoke, she looked at your neckline and noticed the collection of bruises and scrapes you'd accumulated from Trevor. It seemed as if the view had sobered her up a little. "[Y/N], did those men do something unforgivable to you? I will go over there and slaughter them with my own hands if they did one thing! I will, I'll fucking kill them!" 

"I- Gabi, no. It was consensual, I regret it in hindsight, let's never talk about this again. Now, you should know that you stole those drugs from Trevor, not Ron or Wade. They were just storing them," you sputtered. 

"Shut up about the fucking drugs. You know as well as I do that you're gonna spill the beans to me sooner or later, so do it now. Please, for the luvva God, tell me it was Michael and not Trevor," she pleaded.

"No, I'm _not_ shutting up about the drugs. I _work_ for Trevor. I've seen... shit, never mind what I've seen, but you don't want to get on his bad side even more than you already are," you said, panic beginning to rise in your gut.

"How am _I_ on _his_ bad side? Fucker kidnapped me, then expects me to treat him like a saint," Gabi muttered in annoyance. She glanced at you with a somber look in her large pupils. "Damn, [Y/N]. It was him, wasn't it? It was Trevor."

You ignored the last part of what she said. "Look, I know you're upset with him and you guys don't get along. I'm not asking you to. Just don't get him riled up. If he thinks you're a threat of any kind, you're gonna be found in a ditch ten miles west of here. How the fuck do I get you out of this?" you groaned while trying to come up with some sort of a plan. 

"Why in the hell would you have sex with that guy?" Gabi exclaimed with a disappointed scowl on her face. "He's creepy, he's a terrible person, he, I don't know, _abducted your best friend..._ "

"Stop talking about it," you snapped while pointing a finger at her. "I'll figure something out about this, and when I do, maybe I'll tell you about it."

She only rolled her eyes in response and gave a sharp exhale.

After a few minutes of thinking, you reluctantly said, "Okay. Here's the plan. We have him over here and you explain yourself. I won't let anything bad happen to you."

"Well, that's reassuring," Gabi said. She gave you a dead smile. "Whatever works best for you! Oh, while he's over here, why don't we both fuck him together? A nice, big angryfuck! That way he doesn't kill me or something."

"Gabi, I really need you to shut the fuck up," you breathed as you clenched a fist. "I don't have the temper or patience for this right now." 

You took your phone out and texted Trevor. _hey, come over as soon as you can plz._

 _On my way. I will bring u a plan b and a rubber. While im at it,_ his text back said. You rolled your eyes and prayed he wouldn't be too angry with you. While you'd given yourself to him last night, you'd also majorly pissed him off. You weren't quite sure where you stood with that odd man.

"Ew!" Gabi shouted. "Did you give Trevor my number?"

"What? No," you said, confused. She thrust her phone in your face.

 _Omwtfwb. Google it. T_ , the text said. 

"As if I don't know what that stands for! It's a double insult, him thinking I don't know simple abbreviations!" she snarled as she bit her lip in frustration. She gave you a somber look. "Did you seriously tell him about... about us? What we did?"

"Of course not," you reassured Gabi. "He was- God, this is gonna sound weird- he heard the music coming from our place that night, came over, and overheard us while we were..."

"Having sex? You can just say it, [Y/N]. This isn't a sixth grade locker room. You, [F/N] [L/N], have had sex with your best friend Gabi Geddes and you regret ever thinking about it, don't you?"

"What? Gabi, that's not it at all-" 

You were interrupted by Trevor throwing the door open and strolling in with a paper bag in his hands. "Forecast calls for a 100% chance of T-revor _tonight_!" He took you by the forearm and dragged you into your bedroom before slamming the door shut. "You should probably take those meds now," he told you as he opened the bag and tossed a smaller plastic bag to you. "Do it with some of that water by your bedstand, m'lady, then we'll get going."

"Trevor, I didn't invite you over here to fuck," you snapped. Between him and Gabi, your patience was growing steadily thinner as the day went on. You hastily opened the water bottle and downed the pill. "Last night, something happened in Sandy Shores."

Trevor looked disappointed and confused. "Huh? Like what?"

You wondered if it would be better to have Gabi in or out of the room, then decided it would be better to have her out. You sighed. "Hear me out before you do anything rash, now. If I was wanting to hurt you or betray you, I wouldn't be telling you this the moment I found out. Don't hurt me, and don't hurt Gabi. _Please_."

"What are you talking about?" Trevor narrowed his eyes at you. "[Y/N], what did you do...?"

" _I_ didn't do anything. Gabi... ugh. Gabi 'borrowed' some drugs from Ron and Wade, but she didn't realize they were yours. She didn't even know their names, I only knew who they were by her descriptions, I swear to God," you rattled out.

Trevor slowly began walking towards you until you were backed against the door. He bared his teeth at you and continued pressing himself into you until your noses were touching. 

"Let me through."

"Not until you promise not to do anything to Gabi."

"Can't promise that." He took you by the shoulders and gently but firmly moved you aside so he could go through the door. "Hey, Gabi!" He had a fake smile plastered across his face that made you sick to your stomach. 

"Uh, hi, Trevor," Gabi said with a confused look on her face. "Ew, get off me!" Trevor began hugging her and moving side to side before pushing her down on the ground and putting a foot on her stomach.

"You do _not_ get to touch my supply, you little cuntlicker!" Trevor shouted. "I'd shove my foot through your guts right now if [Y/N] wasn't so fucking attached to you. You're like a little cockroach, you know that? Can't ever get rid of you..."

Gabi was shouting obscenities and clawing at his boots to no avail. You ran over and tried to pull Trevor off of her. He finally took his foot off of her and turned to face you.

"And _you_. Get in the car. Now. Because I can't take my anger out on Gabi, you're the second best option. Plus, I think it'll hurt her just as bad," he said. Not wanting him to injure your friend, you did as he asked, your stomach knotting up as you climbed into the passenger side of his Bodhi. You heard more shouting commence from the trailer before Trevor stormed out, slamming the door behind him as he marched to the driver's side.

"God fucking dammit," you muttered under your breath as he started the truck and sped away.

"'God fucking dammit' yourself! I can't have thirty minutes of free time thanks to your neediness. I cannot _believe_ you associate with somebody who thought it would be okay to steal from _me_!" Trevor snarled as he hit the gas.

 _Please don't kill me. Please don't kill me_ , you thought as your stomach lurched with every bump in the road. "Trevor... that wasn't what she thought she was doing. She was probably just gonna use it all, anyways. For what it's worth, thanks for not hurting her."

"Fuck. You're so sentimental about people it makes me want to purge," he said with a disdainful scowl. "Almost makes me wish somebody cared about _me_ like that."

The last part of what he said was tinged with sadness and resonated with you. " _I_ care about you. If I didn't, why would I have called you in the first place about what Gabi had done? Why would I have helped you clean your trailer? Why would I have been within a ten mile radius of you the whole time I've lived here?" 

Trevor's face screwed up as the last buildings of Sandy Shores disappeared behind a dusty dune; for a second there, you thought he was going to cry before he let out a harsh, angry laugh. "That's called 'self-preservation', sweetie, not 'caring'." He gave you a melancholy gaze.

"Well, shit, Trevor!" you shouted. You didn't care whether or not he was angry at you or if he was gonna beat you to a pulp for the stolen drugs lurking beneath your bed. He'd worn out the last of the patience you had for that day. You grabbed his right arm and yanked it, causing him to go off the road as he slammed the breaks. He gave you a bewildered look as the truck rolled to a stop about thirty feet from where the road lay. "I cared a _whole_ fucking lot when you were high last night! If you don't think I care about you, you're even blinder than I thought. I know you want _us_ to be a thing, but don't even think it'll ever be an option in a _million years_ unless you get off of the meth. I'd barely be able to handle it if a friend of mine OD'd, much less a boyfriend, and I would really fucking care if you died either way."

"You don't and you wouldn't care," he insisted. 

"Are you telling me that, or are you telling yourself that?"

"I--! I... I don't know..." Trevor began to rest his head on the steering wheel as he ground his teeth in frustration and confusion. "I've wanted to kick it for so long, [Y/N]. So fucking long. It has its way of worming its way inside of me. And I don't understand how Michael, fuckin' Mikey, did what he did to me. Why he finds his life, his family, so much more important than anything else. I want someone to care about me as much as he cares about those idiots, but so far it's only been the crystal who gives me that attention."

You put a hand on his shoulder awkwardly. You doubted this is what he had in mind when he wanted Gabi to suffer the consequences of stealing from his stash. "I'll do whatever it is, whatever you need to help you." 

"Would you suck my dick to help me?" Trevor asked. You couldn't tell if he was joking or being serious.

You let out a dry laugh. "Give it a week of being clean, then talk to me." 

The two of you sat for a moment, the silence being broken only by the faint sound of passing cars. You turned to him to break the quiet. It seemed he'd somewhat calmed down from your reassurances.

"So, what are you gonna do to me? Break my arms? Spank me? Bury me four feet under the sand and let vultures peck my eyes out?" you asked Trevor.

"I mean, spanking you sounds nice, but you'd probably enjoy it too much, naughty girl," he thought aloud. "I don't know... I'm feeling too sappy now to put you through physical _or_ psychological pain. Argh!" He ran a hand through his thinning hair and let out a long, gusty sigh before giving you a side eye. "Y'know, I still got the condoms with me-"

" _No_."

"If you insist. I may be a terrible person, but hey, at least I respect women! Okay, okay, indulge me by having a drink with me at your place. You _do_ have drinks there, right?"

"Yeah, unless Gabi inhaled them all with the coke she stole. I'll get you some money to reimburse you, by the way," you promised. 

Trevor waved his hand dismissively as he began driving back onto the road. "No, don't worry about it. 

As soon as you were back home, you opened your liquor cabinet as Sadie watched curiously from the couch. Gabi was nowhere to be found.

"Hmm... okay, found something," you said triumphantly. "Vodka or whiskey?"

"Whiskey."

"Smart man." You poured two glasses, one for you and one for Trevor, and clinked them together before feeling a burning sensation make its way to your stomach. As the sun went down, you had a few more along with Trevor.

"I'm such a lightweight," you slurred as you stumbled onto the couch. "You seen this TV? 'Cause I haven't."

"Izzit new? Or izzit the one from the bedroom?" Trevor said back. You could tell he was just as sloshed as you were as he sat next to you. 

"New..." you screwed up your face as the TV began blaring nonsense. You shut it off as quickly as you'd turned it on. "Whaddya think about what last night? I fucking loved it." You realized you'd said your thoughts aloud and quickly slapped your hand over your mouth. "I wasn't suppos'ta say that, whoopsie..."

"Whoo! Here's the _real_ [Y/N]. Raw horniness, jussaway I like it. D'ya wanna go into your room and continue the conversation there?" he slurred back at you. He leaned in close to you, gently touching his nose to yours. 

"Nononononono. Not again," you said, slowly scooching away from him and rejecting his drunk advances. "I can't fuck when I'm fucked up."

"Fine," he sniffed. He dug around in his pocket for a moment until he pulled out a pipe and meth. "Wanna smoke some speed, then?"

The sight of it sobered you up a bit and you snatched it away from him. "Trevor, no! You said no more."

A look of annoyance flashed in his eyes before they softened once realizing how serious you were. "You really do care about me, eh? Marry me, [Y/N]. Pleasepleasepleaseplease _please_."

"Trevor, no..." you repeated, this time softer.

"I ain't gonna follow these rules you've made unless you've got your eyes on me at _allll_ times. I'mma bad boy, [Y/N]. Naughty little boy." He weakly grabbed for what you'd taken from him. You shoved it between your butt and the couch, only for you to yelp and swat his hand when he began to grope your ass. "Not my fault you put it there! You're gonna have to live with me or somethin' if you want me to really stop and not just feed you some bullshit. Just bein' honest."

"Didya just suggest you should _live_ with me, Trevor?" you asked him with an intrigued expression on your face. _It's a crazy idea, but it could work..._

"I was more thinking an assistant or notetaker or something, just followin' me around as I work, but that'd probably help me, too." 

"Well, I wanna help you, so I suppose it'd be okay if you stayed with me or I stayed with you for a lil' bit. No funny business, though."

Trevor rolled his eyes and stuck his hand out. As you began to shake it and signify a drunken deal, the door opened and Gabi walked in. 

"[Y/N], are you okay?!" Gabi exclaimed. She rushed over to you and wrapped her arms around you. "Christ, you reek of alcohol, don'cha?"

"Hey, roomie," Trevor purred as he attempted to join in on the hug between you and Gabi. She pushed him away by the forehead.

"What do you mean, 'roomie'?" She cast you a look of alarm.

"You, me and [Y/N] are roommates now! Best friends forever! We can stay up all night together, tell secrets, confess our crushes, drink Mommy and Daddy's liquor cabinet dry..." Trevor pouted his lips and rolled his eyes dramatically.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no..." Gabi groaned as she began to pull at her hair. She snapped her head towards you. "He's sleeping on the couch, right? He'd better be sleeping on the couch...!"

You hadn't thought this far ahead. "Uhh... you guys figure it out with rock-paper-scissors or something."

"Well, considering I spared your life today after you _stole_ from me, Gabi," Trevor began, "I think the least you could do is let me sleep in a bed for uh-tuh-night."

"Shit, you're both plastered, aren't you?" Gabi gave a sneer of contempt at the pair of you. "Whatever. Y'all sleep in there tonight, I'll take the couch. _Everybody Hates Gabi_ , premiering on a channel near you next Friday!"

"Thanks," you murmured in her ear as you got up. She shot you a look of offense and annoyance which you decided to ignore for the time being. Trevor stumbled into your room and you helped him ease into your bed. Moments after his head hit the pillow, he began to softly snore. _He's almost... cute when he's sleeping_ , you thought in amusement. You fluffed your pillow up, then climbed beneath the blankets, careful to keep your distance from the angel-at-night, devil-by-day.

"Good night, Trevor," you whispered as you turned your back to him. _I hope this stupid plan ends up working..._


	18. Chapter Eighteen

You awoke the next morning with Sadie faithfully sleeping between you and Trevor. It seemed he'd turned toward you in his sleep and curled an arm around her. _Look at that brute cuddling with a cute little kitty. What's next, snow in Sandy Shores?_

You decided to let the sleeping dog lie and stealthily got up to see Gabi already eating.

"'Morning, sleepyhead," Gabi whispered. She nodded her head toward a pile of pills. "I got the perfect hangover cure right there for you."

You took the pills and nodded your thanks as you dry swallowed them. "Where _were_ you last night?"

"Oh," Gabi laughed, "wouldn't you like to know?" She paused, waiting for you to have a comeback, but when you didn't say anything, she finally gave her answer. "I picked up a shift at the Yellow Jack. I was getting worried about you and figured it'd be better to work my worries away. Obviously, they didn't work. You got Crazy in your room after you guys did God-knows-what last night, and I don't want anything to do with that."

You sucked air through your cheeks and gave her a sympathetic look. "He needs help, Gabi. I know you're not his number one fan, but the dude needs _somebody_ on his side. I'm not asking you to fall in love with him, just tolerate him. Please."

Gabi gave you a suspicious gaze. "How long?"

"I don't know," you admitted. "However long he needs help for. I'll try and spend some time with him in his trailer so you can have Trevor-free time every now and then. I'm hoping it'll be about a month before he's better."

"Why?" Gabi asked. "Why do you want to help that... that _psycho_? What do you see in him that you don't see in m-in other, _better_ people?"

"That's not nice, Gabi," you scolded. _Truth is, he actually likes me. He isn't one to beat around the bush or lie about that shit._ "The least I owe him is getting him some help for what he's struggling with right now. He's done a lot for me."

"What," Gabi said with a spiteful laugh, "kidnap your friend and dick you down? Which, by the way, you still haven't told me about."

You hesitated telling Gabi about the threesome, then decided not to. _If Gabi tells Tracey, it's_ over. "Michael... slept in the van and Trevor and I took the bed. We pulled straws."

"You got the short straw, huh?" Gabi laughed.

"Yeah, ha, ha, very funny. Long story short, we did the deed and it was just a one-time thing," you said. Gabi shot you a skeptical look. "Really, it was! He's just staying here for a little bit to get some help with a personal issue he can't fix on his own."

"Well, when you inevitably get knocked up, I better be the bridesmaid, the unicorn, _and_ the godmother," Gabi responded with a sniff. Jealousy and sadness flashed in her eyes for a brief moment before mischievousness and curiosity took over. "So, what is it? This personal issue, this... this _struggle_?"

"Well, my roomie," you heard from behind you, "if you _must_ know, it's a getting-clean-kind-of-struggle. Not that you'd know how that works, you little cokehound."

"Really with the insults, man? You're a dick!" Gabi yelled.

"You know, Gabi, you're a bit nosier than I'd like you to be. Getting up in my sex life, my business life, and now, my _home_ life," Trevor sneered. He knew he was winding Gabi up. Her arms began to shake and she bared her lips in rage.

"Okay, both of you, calm down!" you interjected before the tension thickened any further. "It's 1:00 in the afternoon, no need to keep riling each other up. No good's gonna come from that."

"What?" Trevor pouted. "Miss Prissypants here mad that I'm making simple observations?"

"I said stop," you growled in a firm tone.

"Ooh, I like that in a woman. I'll stop, just for you," Trevor purred as he took a couple steps closer to you. You held your arm out to prevent him from getting any closer to you.

"Thank you," you murmured in a low tone only Trevor could hear. Raising your voice, you said, "Are you wanting food?"

"No," Trevor said. "My stomach feels like shit." He glanced at the door, and you could practically read his thoughts. _Would she really care if I just went out that door and took a drag off my pipe?_

"Hey," you said gently. He snapped his attention back to you. "You can do this. I believe in you."

Gabi gave a huff of amusement as she scrolled through her phone; you weren't sure if it was from the corny line you'd just told Trevor or if it was something she'd seen.

"What's your work schedule look like these next few days?" you asked Trevor.

" _Our_ work schedule. You're not taking those pretty [E/C] puppies off of me until you think it's time. I don't have anything going on today. Tomorrow, I distribute product to my dealers and they give me the cash from what they made since the last distribution. Then I pay them their fair share and we go on our merry little ways."

"I thought you only dealt with mass exchanges?" you asked in surprise.

"[Y/N], I'm a man with many surprises up his sleeve. I've gotten into dabbling with both as of late. Los Santos has its fair share of methheads, too, and it's time I capitalized on that market more than I already have been," Trevor explained while grimacing and glancing at his knuckle tattoos.

"I suppose that's only fair," you teased. "So, is there anything you're wanting to do today?"

"Yeah, I dunno. Give me a moment." Trevor turned around and walked into the bathroom, loudly shutting the door behind him.

"At least he shut the door," Gabi muttered as she began to do the dishes.

Several minutes passed and you began to become concerned. You put your ear to the door and heard a gurgling retching noise. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah, leave me alone!" Trevor's muffled voice sounded from the bathroom.

"You sure?"

"No!"

"Do you want me to come in there and get you some antacids?"

"Yeah..."

You went to your medicine cabinet and grabbed some mint Tums before gently opening the door to your restroom. Trevor was crumpled around the toilet and you could nearly taste the hot, acidic smell drifting from the toilet.

"Gimme," he said as he held his hand out and wiggled his fingers needily. You dropped the antacids in his hand and he immediately swallowed them whole before throwing them back up a minute later.

"Is there anything else I can help with? Cool washcloth or something?" you asked him. A prick of concern and sympathy sparked at the bottom of your stomach for the poor guy. "I'm sorry you've got to go through this," you quietly added as you put a hand on his shoulder.

"Mmm," he grumbled, "hold my head." You raised an eyebrow but obeyed the odd request. You put your hands above his ears, being sure not to cover them, and your fingers were touching his temples. You softly massaged; he began to groan and press his head deeper into your hands.

He threw up a couple more times, and you couldn't believe how much nothing his stomach seemed to produce.

"Okay," he said eventually, "I think I'm finally done." He flushed the toilet and watched the vomit go down with a disgusted fascination. Quietly, he asked, "Could you keep rubbing my head?"

"Yeah," you muttered gently. _If this is what it takes for him to quit meth._ "Softer, same, or harder?"

"Harder... harder... oh, fuck, that's perfect," Trevor breathed as you adjusted the pressure you were putting on his head. You stood hunched over his crumpled body for ten minutes saying nothing, only massaging his temples. It was oddly intimate and soothing. You knew as well as Trevor did that the temples were one of the most vulnerable parts of the body besides the stomach and the balls. A guy like Trevor letting anybody touch him like that? It must have been a religious experience for him.

"Okay, I'll get up and out of your hair now," Trevor murmured, softly batting your hands away from him. You stepped back and he pushed past you.

"No, it's okay. Really," you insisted as you followed him out of the bathroom. "What do you want to do now? Watch TV? Go for a drive?"

Trevor turned to you with a suspicious expression plastered on his face. "Why are you so _obsessed_ with me, [Y/N]? You keep following me around keeping your eyes peeled on me like a touch-starved puppy. What's your issue?"

"I'm trying to help you," you said in a baffled tone.

"Oh." His face relaxed a little. "I thought all that shit you were spewing last night was heat-of-the-moment. You really meant it?"

"Yeah. If I didn't mean it, I wouldn't have said it. You know what? Get in your truck, I know exactly what we can do."

"If you say so!" Trevor grunted. He swung the door open and left the trailer; now was your opportunity. You dialed Michael's number.

"Yello?" Michael's voice sounded from your phone.

"Hey. You busy today? No? Great. Trevor and I are gonna stop by your place and hang out for a little bit. Go through your movies and pick one you think he'll be invested in," you said quickly.

"What? Uh-uh, no way. This? This is my relaxation day," Michael hissed through the phone.

"You're gonna let Trevor over or I'll tell your wife about the other night," you hissed back. "He's trying to get clean and he _needs_ you, Michael."

A brooding silence hung over the line for a moment. "Okay. Fine. You're bringing snacks, though." The dial tone sounded and you pumped your fist in excitement.

"Who was that?" Gabi asked. "What are you talking about, 'the other night'?"

"Nobody. Don't worry about it," you said distractedly. You hadn't realized she'd entered the room while you were on the phone. "Look, I gotta go. I'll be back tonight. Be safe. Thanks for doing the dishes!" you called out before you slammed the door and went to the Bodhi. Trevor was sitting in the driver's seat. "Move your ass over to the passenger's side. I'm taking you on a surprise trip."

Trevor growled uneasily and shifted himself into the passenger's seat. You ignited the motor and turned the radio to Channel X as you drove to the general store and bought some popcorn and candy. If Trevor didn't want any, it was more for you and Michael. The trip to Los Santos went by fairly quickly and you remembered the way to the De Santa residence well enough. Trevor gave you a glance of pleasant surprise as the gate opened and you parked in the driveway.

"Looks like you really _do_ have a few tricks up your sleeve, huh, [Y/N]?" Trevor said while giving you a fond gaze.

"I suppose so," you chuckled as you walked into Michael's house. It was nice, successfully surprising somebody in a good way, especially Trevor.

"Hey," Michael said with a polite nod. "I decided you or Trevor could pick the movie-"

" _Shrek_." Trevor interrupted as he pointed a finger at Michael. "We're watching _Shrek_."

"Jesus Christ, Trevor, what is it with you and that fucking movie?" Michael exclaimed. "You know there's more movies out there than that one, right?"

"Do I know? Yes. Do I _care_? No," Trevor said with a sniff. "I know you've got it on Amazon Prime."

"I don't," Michael said with a confused expression.

"You _do_. Because _I_ bought it on _your_ account," Trevor chuckled with a smirk. Michael's fists balled up and his cheeks slightly flushed, but he said nothing, only escorting you and Trevor into his living room.

Michael snatched the grocery bag away from you. "I'll pop the popcorn while you pull up the stupid ogre movie," he seethed.

The buttery aroma of popcorn filled the home as Michael popped the bags. Trevor had pulled up the movie and paused it at the very beginning as Michael came in with popcorn bowls precariously balanced in his arms.

"Oh, no," Trevor said as he waved a hand. "I'm not wanting any."

"Fine." Michael gave a bowl to you and set Trevor's bowl on the coffee table in front of the white couch. Both Michael and Trevor grabbed blankets from beneath the table. Trevor pressed play and the first scene was halfway through when the front door opened.

"Hey, Michael! I'm home!" an unfamiliar feminine voice called out.

"Aw, shit, it's Amanda," Michael gasped. His panicked gaze darted between you and Trevor as Amanda walked into the living room. Her expression shifted from content to exasperated the moment she saw you and Trevor sitting on the couch.

"What the fuck, Michael! Really? You invite some whore -and _Trevor_ \- into our _house_?!" Amanda exclaimed.

"Hey," Michael began as he stood up, "First off, she works with Trevor. I didn't _hire_ her or anything like that. Secondly, I didn't think you'd be home from the wine tasting until later, so excuse me!"

"Now, Amanda," Trevor chuckled lowly, "that's no way to treat a houseguest. Why don't you join us?"

Amanda said nothing in response, only frowning and casting suspicious glances toward you and Trevor as she sat down beside Michael and took the popcorn sitting on the coffee table.

Half an hour passed and Trevor was fully engrossed in the movie, making remarks to the characters as he occasionally stole pieces of popcorn from your bowl. The seating arrangement had gradually shifted as the movie continued: Michael, on the further left side, welcomed Amanda as she gradually scooted further away from Trevor and closer to Michael; Trevor, in the center right of the couch, had migrated toward you until you were leaning against each other.

As Shrek and Donkey crossed the precarious bridge over the lava, Trevor leaned in close to your ear. "Be subtle, but look to your left," he chuckled. You snuck a peek in the direction he'd told you to and almost choked on the candy you were snacking upon. Michael was leaned back with closed eyes while Amanda's hand bobbed up and down beneath the blanket. "You know, I wouldn't mind you giving me a massage like Mike's getting..."

"Just watch the movie," you whispered back, doing your best not to laugh at the scenario unfolding on the couch. It was getting difficult to ignore the married couple to your left; Amanda was now embracing Michael and making out with him. He was letting out quiet hums of pleasure in between kisses as you shuffled in discomfort.

Michael cleared his throat. "Hey, T, [Y/N], I'm getting kind of tired, so I'm gonna head up to bed."

"I'm getting tired, too," Amanda chimed in hurriedly.

"Alright. You guys can stay until the movie's done, then get outta here," Michael said as he and Amanda stood up. Amanda went ahead of him and you heard a playful slap and giggle as they went upstairs.

"Somehow, I don't think they're going to go to sleep just yet," Trevor chuckled. As Shrek, Donkey, and Fiona crossed the bridge to safety, Trevor slowly but surely snaked an arm around your shoulder. You felt your heart give a small flutter once you noticed his hand gently coming to rest on your upper arm. He gave your arm a gentle, soft squeeze as he laughed at one of the punchlines coming from the movie, causing your insides to stir even more. It wasn't a _bad_ flutter by any means; it was more an anxious, what-do-I-do flutter. _Goddamnit [Y/N],_ you thought, _you'd better not be catching any more feelings for him than you've already got..._

You quickly gave Trevor a side-eye to find he was looking at you. "I thought this was your favorite movie," you teased. 

"I stopped paying attention awhile ago," Trevor said. "Can't you hear it?"

"Hear what?"

Trevor grabbed the remote and turned the TV down. _Oh,_ that's _what he's talking about._ You could hear moaning and a rhythmic tapping coming from upstairs. "Yeah, I hear it. Sure wish I couldn't, though."

Trevor grabbed your left hand and quickly tried to stuff it down his pants, but you yanked it back before you touched anything. "Come on," Trevor begged as he used his right arm to squeeze your body close to his, "just a little bit?"

"Trevor, you can't just do that with my hand," you said as you felt your face quickly flush. "I'm really not-"

"Please? You're really helping me keep my mind off the speed. Just a little?" Trevor asked. "Michael and Amanda are _preoccupied_ , plus you said you'd think about it..."

"I don't recall saying I'd think about giving you a handy after you were clean for a day," you snorted.

"Fine," Trevor sniffed. "Can you at least kiss me?"

It was an odd feeling you had; mere days ago, you and him _(And Michael_ , you thought with a guilty pang) had each others' tongues in your mouths pushing cum back and forth between your lips. You'd told both Trevor and yourself it was only a one-time thing, but as each moment passed since the encounter, you believed more and more that it could very well be a two-time thing. Or more.

You gave him a weary glance. "Are you wanting tongue?"

"Surprise me, babe."

"I'm _not_ your babe. I'm proud of you, though."

"Mmm." He slowly moved his face close, brushing his nose against yours as he did so. He gently grabbed the back of your head as he leaned in for a long, passionate kiss. It lasted for about fifteen seconds, no tongue, before he pulled himself away.

"That was all you wanted?" you asked as Trevor grunted and resituated himself.

"I don't know if you've been paying any attention, [Y/N], but I _said_ I wanted a handjob. I'm sure I'll get it someday; I can play the long game," he murmured while casting you a sultry glance. 

"Not what I meant, Trevor. I was talking about the world's shortest kiss you gave me there," you said. What could you say? You were feeling cocky and there weren't exactly a plethora of men lining up to kiss you.

Trevor raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Oh, so you wanted _more_ than that?" Before you could answer, he pulled your face to his and began kissing you again. You felt his lips part slightly as his tongue darted across your lips begging to be let in. You obliged and returned the favor as you slung your arms around Trevor's neck. _Christ, he's a drooler_ , you thought to yourself. His spit tasted of popcorn, cigarettes, and beer with a metallic undertone. Before you knew it, the movie was over. As he pulled away from you, a long string of saliva grew between the two of you until he cut it off with a finger.

"Ugh, _fuck_ , that was good," Trevor said under his breath as he looked you up and down and adjusted his pants. "Wanna take this back to your place?"

You playfully smacked him on the shoulder. "There's nothing _to_ take back to my place, dipshit. It was just a kiss," you said.

" _Two_ kisses if we're counting."

"Whatever, you know what I mean. Let's go."

The same radio station from earlier that day played as you drove back to Sandy Shores. The journey seemed to go quicker and quicker with each ride to your relief.

"We're gonna stay at my place tonight, _assistant_ ," Trevor informed you as he pulled into his dirt driveway. 

"Fine by me- oh God, Trevor! What's that smell?" you exclaimed. The trailer had bags of molding, rotting fast food haphazardly scattered around it and the place seemed dingier than how you'd left it.

"I _tried_ keeping it clean, okay? I swear to God!" Trevor insisted with a guilty, shameful look on his face. 

"Alright, alright. I guess I've seen it worse," you said as you sharply inhaled through your teeth. "Why don't you take a shower while I clean up?"

A look of relief shone on his face. "Fine, whatever. I'll be in there if you want to shower, too..."

You laughed as he walked into the bathroom. You closed the door behind him since he didn't bother to do so, then figured he'd probably want some fresh clothes to change into. You dug through his dresser and found a gray tank top and some cropped sweatpants, then stealthily opened the bathroom door and tossed them in before closing the door quickly again, looking away as you did so. As he showered, you worked as quickly as you could, picking up cigarette butts, broken glass, and decomposing food and throwing it in the garbage. By the time he got out of the bathroom, you'd even managed to begin on the dishes.

"I didn't notice you stopped by in there. Thanks for the clothes. Can I take them off?" he quietly rumbled as he snuck up behind you and gently grabbed your hips, pressing your body against his. 

You dropped the plate you were washing in surprise; fortunately, it didn't break. "Damn, Trevor! You surprised me," you shouted as you nudged him away and put the sponge down.

"It's not my fault you aren't observant," he stubbornly replied as he crossed his arms and looked at you. Quieter, he added, "I'm feeling kind of hot."

"Ha ha, very funny," you said with an eyeroll.

"No, I mean literally. My head's hurting like a motherfucker, too." Trevor took your hand and pressed it against his forehead. _He isn't lying, is he_? "I don't know if it's heat stroke or the withdrawal. I didn't have the fever last time."

"Go to bed," you told him gently. "Don't use the blankets and strip down to your underwear. I'll get you a cool washcloth you can put on your face."

Trevor grunted in thanks and retreated to his room. You searched around until you found a clean rag, then put it under some cold water. You grabbed some Advil while you were at it before making your way into his room. You found Trevor laying on his bed like a starfish wearing nothing but green briefs. He was beginning to perspire. 

You hurriedly made your way onto the bed and tenderly placed the rag on his forehead. As you set it on him, you glanced over his body and noticed numerous cuts, scrapes, and scars, the most notable being one right beneath his FUCK COPS tattoo on his stomach. You gave a soft smile as you noticed a smiley face on the right side of his hip. He let out a soft moan as he felt the cool cloth hit his skin. 

"Thanks," he moaned.

"No problem," you replied softly while giving him the Advil. He had a bottle of water beside his bed which he used to wash the pills down. "Why don't we get to bed?"

"Yeah, that sounds nice," Trevor murmured. You shut the lights off and got beneath the musty covers. "Good night, [Y/N]."

"Sleep tight, Trevor," you replied. "And wake me up if you need anything."

"Oh, I'm sure I will," you heard him breathe. As you drifted off to sleep, you were half-sure you heard him murmur the words "I love you" ever-so-quietly. _I'm sure it's just the withdrawal talking for him._


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Your dreams were strangely quiet that night. When you awoke, you felt unfamiliar with your surroundings until remembering you'd just spent the night with Trevor. The more conscious you became, the more aware you were of movement and vocalization on the other side of the bed. Once you gathered the energy, you turned your head to see Trevor masturbating while staring straight at you.

"Fuck," he said, "that's it. Keep looking at my face, sugar. Better yet, look at my boy-- no, better _yet_ , touch it."

You quickly got up and gave him a glance filled with disgust as you walked out of his bedroom. "Really, Trevor?" you shouted.

"Yeah, really!" he called from the other room. "I've gotta fuck _someone_ , and if it isn't you, I guess it's gotta be my hand, huh?" Trevor added with panting between every several words.

You said nothing back, only shaking your head in response as you poured some dry cereal into a cup. _I don't want to look in that fucking fridge after last time_ , you thought with a shudder as you picked halfheartedly at the food you found. When you were nearly done, you heard a shout from the other room quickly followed by whimpering not unlike that of a dog's. After a couple minutes, Trevor arrived in the living area wearing the clothes you'd given him last night.

"It wouldn't kill you to help a guy out, you know," he remarked as he walked toward you and wiped a hand on your arm. You coughed out the cereal you'd been chewing as your eyes rushed around looking for a napkin. _He just wiped his fucking cum on my arm!_

"What the fuck, man?!" you exclaimed as you finally gave up and wiped the area he'd touched with your hand.

"You've had my cum in your mouth before, what's the big deal?" Trevor chuckled while shaking his head at you. "Don't tell me you still believe in _cooties_."

"No, it's just kind of disrespectful! I'm trying to help you get better and you wiping your _bodily fluids_ on me isn't exactly encouragement for me to continue helping," you said with a scowl.

"Don't talk about my bodily fluids like they're gross!" Trevor shouted. You could tell he was in a shitty mood today already. "Lick it off of your hand."

You stared at him, mouth agape in disbelief as you tried to gauge whether or not he was being serious. He slowly took took a menacing step toward you as his eyes darkened. "Lick the cum off or I'll _make you_ lick it off."

 _Okay, he's serious_ , you thought with an internal sigh. You looked at your hand, watched the opaque sludge slowly move downwards for a second, then grimaced and licked your palm. You closed your eyes and cringed as you felt the salty liquid move its way from your lips to your esophagus. His eyes glowed with approval and perverted satisfaction as he watched you reluctantly obey his whim.

"That's a good girl." He seemed to relax slightly, to your relief. His eyes brightened and he stood up straight. "Now, pop quiz-- what's on the agenda for today?"

"You meet up with your dealers. They give you all the money they made, and in return, you give them a chunk of money back plus some more crank to sell," you recalled.

"Bingo! Grab a gun and get in the truck." He shifted his waistband to show you the grip of his pistol. You nodded and grabbed another gun off the table before Trevor drove the two of you to the Liquor Ace.

"Ladies first," Trevor said as you approached the stairs. You began walking up the stairs, then felt a _crack_ against your left buttcheek.

"Ow!" you exclaimed as you whirled around to see Trevor holding his belt and giving a lopsided grin.

"More where that came from if you don't hurry up." His expression, quick as light, changed from that of jolly humor to tested impatience.

"Sorry." You began running up the stairs and made your way into a room where Chef was sitting with several grocery bags filled with what you could only assume to be drugs and other related paraphernalia.

"Hey, Trevor," Chef said while readjusting his glasses. He lifted up an arm and jerked a thumb toward a doorway. "Dealers are in there."

"Excellent job, Chef," Trevor beamed. As he walked past Chef, he gave him a pat on the head. You couldn't help but give a smirk of amusement at Chef's disgruntled expression.

As you followed Trevor into the next room, you observed the small group of dealers in there. There was a bearded white man in his 60s wearing a trucker cap, a 30-year-old Mexican man donning a baggy hoodie and baggy jeans, an emaciated hollow-eyed white woman in her late 30s, and a young black man who couldn't have been older than 23 boasting a colorful tye-dye outfit.

The baggy-clothed man widened his eyes and pointed to you. "Look out, Trevor!"

Trevor scoffed and rolled his eyes as he slowly made his way toward the man. "Ricardo-"

"My name's Eduardo."

"Your name's Ricardo if I _say_ it's Ricardo! Now, _Ricardo_ , that there is my lovely, amazing, perfect assistant [Y/N]. You will worship the ground she steps on and you will kiss her ass just as hard as you kiss mine. That goes for all of you. Comprendo?" Trevor growled.

The woman gave you a frown. "What's she done that any of us can't do?"

"Shut up, Wilma!" Trevor screamed as he lunged at the woman. He stopped himself before he got carried away, mere inches away from her body.

"It's Willow, not Wilma-"

Wilma got interrupted by Trevor backhanding her so hard she fell to the ground. Trevor let out a harsh, bark-like laugh.

"You guys are _really_ wanting to antagonize me today, huh? Give [Y/N] the fucking money."

One by one, all the dealers except Wilma, who was nursing the stinging pain on her cheek, reluctantly came to you and handed you large stacks of money.

"Alright, [Y/N], put the money in the counter," Trevor told you as he gestured toward an automatic money counter on a table. You took the stacks and went over to the counter and watched with fascination as, one by one, you watched the numbers grow.

"Okay! We've got the first three," Trevor told you. "Give Gnomey $18,500, Rainbow $26,200, and Ricardo $22,325."

"As you wish," you said, running the money through the counter again until you got each sum. You gave the cash back to each dealer. All three of them thumbed through it and nodded their thanks.

"Wilma, get up and gimme the fucking money," Trevor commanded. Wilma shakily got up to her feet and handed Trevor a stack of bills. Trevor thumbed through them, greed showing in his eyes. "Huh, these bills look pretty unused. Count 'em, [Y/N]!" Trevor said as he tossed them over to you. You fumbled, then caught them, then began to put them through the counter.

 _$100... $500... $500.._. The machine wasn't wanting to count anything above $500. You put it through twice more, trying to fix it, frowning even more with every failed attempt.

"Hey, Trevor? The machine isn't working," you said as you hit it by the side.

"All of you, put your fucking hands up! You too, Glasses!" As Chef entered the room, Wilma pulled a gun out of her pants and aimed it at Trevor. She ran up to Trevor and pressed the muzzle against his temple. "All of you, give me the money and the drugs and I won't blow your fucking brains out along with his. Glasses, get over there with [Y/N]." Chef shuffled his way toward you, concern sparking in his eyes.

Your heart thudded against your ribcage as the dealers slowly gave her the money. She pushed the muzzle further into Trevor's temple and he reluctantly gave her the money he'd collected.

"This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't decided to get a fucking automatic money counter," Wilma spat as she glanced at the fat stack of cash she had in her hand.

Time seemed to slow down. _I've got a gun,_ you realized. Now could be the only slot of time you had to save Trevor and the stash. You could feel your heartbeat as time nearly ground to a stop. You took your pistol out and, quick as a whip, aimed it at Wilma's head. You fired. The sound was nearly deafening, but not as sensory-numbing as the sight of seeing the bullet cut through her eye and spray blood and brains all over the place. Trevor staggered away from her once he realized he wasn't the one who'd been shot, and the dealers began panicking.

"Fuck, Willow's dead!" Rainbow shrieked while pointing an accusatory finger at you.

"Yeah, no shit," Trevor snarled as he wiped part of Wilma's remains off his face. "Take it as a lesson. That'll be you, too, if you try and fuck me over." He ever-so-quickly cast you a glance of gratitude and affection. "Now do you see why I love my assistant so much?"

The remaining dealers quickly nodded in agreement.

"Take your money back, all of you," Trevor said while handing the dealers their fair shares back. "Chef, hand them their next packages to sell."

Chef nodded his head, still trying to process what had just unravelled before him, and went into the other room before coming back momentarily with several duffel bags which he distributed to the dealers.

"All right," Trevor said with a clap of his hands. "Get the _fuck_ outta here, guys! See you whenever I text you next!"

The dealers gave blank stares before registering what Trevor had said, then scrambled over each other in an effort to leave the building. All that was left were you, Trevor, Chef, and Wilma's dead body.

Trevor tutted his tongue while looking down at Wilma. "Too bad. What do you reckon happened to Wilma?"

"She probably either gave away or did a bunch of the crank, then when she realized she'd have to answer to you, she tried to get some counterfeit bills and hoped you'd fail to notice," Chef thought aloud.

"Makes sense to me," Trevor huffed. After a couple minutes of silence and staring at Wilma, Trevor broke it. "Do your thing with the body, Chef!"

"Sure thing, boss. You... wanting anything?"

"Not this time."

By now, the thick, distinct aroma of blood was overwhelming the room and the sight of the woman you'd just murdered wasn't helping your queasiness. "I've gotta step outside for a minute."

"Well, we were gonna go anyways," Trevor said, "so it works for both of us. See ya, Chef!"

Chef optimistically waved goodbye as you stumbled down the stairs and navigated your way outdoors. You vomited all your stomach contents out a couple feet away from the door as Trevor watched you, amusement sparkling in his deep brown eyes.

"First time killing someone up close, huh?" Trevor chuckled as he gently patted your back. "We've all been there at some point, don't worry. It gets easier with time."

You gave him a miserable gaze. "It shouldn't have been something I had to do in the first place. That's all I'm gonna see for the next few months every time I close my eyes."

An awkward silence fell between the two of you until Trevor said, "I should really be pissed at you for risking my life there."

"Well, if you hadn't died and I hadn't done anything, you'd be pissed at me for letting the money and drugs get stolen," you countered with a huff.

"Well, regardless, thanks for saving both. I didn't think you'd have the balls to do that," Trevor admitted.

"I'm so grateful I've got your vote of confidence," you murmured sarcastically.

"That's not what I meant!" A panicked look crossed Trevor's face. "I meant... I meant I'm proud of you, I guess."

You gave him a fond gaze. "How about we go back to my place and clean up?"

"Sounds like a plan."

As the two of you climbed into Trevor's Bodhi and made your way toward your trailer, you couldn't help but ask, "How are you doing with the withdrawals?"

"Well, I've had a bitching headache all day, but I took some Advil this morning before I went into the kitchen." Trevor let out a yawn. "I'm gonna stop by the gas station and pick up some food, too."

"You're really wanting to do that in your condition?" you asked him. He was covered in blood. "I think that would arouse more questions than you'd prefer to answer."

"I don't fucking care," Trevor snapped as he pulled into the 24/7 parking lot. "I'll be right back." Moments later, he returned with several grocery bags full of frozen goods. "I just said I was out hunting. These morons'll believe anything if you look menacing enough!"

You went to your trailer where you found Gabi listening to Royals by Lorde. She was noisily humming along to the song as you and Trevor walked in. She turned around with a pleasant expression on her face which was quickly replaced with horror as soon as she saw you and Trevor's blood-stained attire.

"What the fuck did you do?" she gasped.

"We went hunting," you said, playing along with Trevor's lie from earlier. "Don't worry about it, we'll get cleaned up."

"Aw, shit," Trevor said, "I don't have any non-bloody clothes. Can I shower here while you stop by my place and pick some clothes up?"

"Yeah, sure," you said. "Don't bug Gabi too bad. Please." You made your way to Trevor's trailer and got some clothes for him, then returned.

As you re-entered your trailer, you heard the water turn off in the shower, signifying Trevor was done. Similar to the last time you'd had to fetch his clothes, you slipped a hand through the door to drop them on the floor— only this time, a hand grabbed you and pulled you in.

"Jesus, Trevor, what was that for?" you said in exasperation.

Trevor, fully naked, pulled you close to him with a frown. "I just thought we could shower together! Sue me!"

You thrust the new clothes into his arms and, eyes avoiding his body, you backed up until you were out of the cramped room. "l'll see you later, Trevor."

A few minutes later, he exited your bathroom and you took a shower. You vigorously scrubbed at your skin in an effort to rid yourself of the blood and the memory of killing that woman. _Did she even deserve it?_ you thought as you heavily sighed. Your skin was beginning to burn from the scrubbing. You finished your shower and left the bathroom to find Trevor half-asleep on the couch leaning against a discontent Gabi who was just trying to watch some TV. 

"Get him off me," Gabi hissed under her breath. You walked over and gently shook Trevor's shoulder.

"Whaddyawant?" he murmured before realizing he was leaning on Gabi. He quickly removed himself once he noticed how close she was and stood up. "I'm tired."

"Alright, that's fine," you said. "Why don't we head to bed?"

"Good idea," Trevor replied.

Gabi gave you and Trevor an annoyed glance as you went into your room. You climbed into the right side of the bed, Trevor climbed into the left, and you drifted to sleep. 


	20. Chapter Twenty

It had been a week since you'd begun to watch Trevor in an effort to keep him clean. You'd been plagued with nightmares about the woman you'd killed in the heat of the moment every night, and every night when you woke up in a cold sweat, Trevor was in a big spoon position bear-hugging you. You'd try to pry yourself out of his grip, but you'd always give up once he grabbed you even tighter and began whimpering in his sleep.

Your sleep schedule had also gotten fucked up since you and Trevor had begun sharing a bed. He'd sleep for eighteen hours a day; you'd done a little bit of research, and that much sleep was characteristic for somebody going through withdrawal. When he wasn't sleeping, he was binge watching cartoons and shoving carbs down his throat. You'd had to give him a maximum amount of what he could eat because he was overeating to the point of nausea. _At least he's not eating people,_ you thought semi-jokingly as you stirred and felt him wiggle against you. You gently elbowed him in the gut so he'd wake up.

"Hey," you whispered. Trevor's eyes slowly opened as they adjusted to the light filtering in through the window. 

"What?" he asked. 

"We should probably wake up."

"Ugh... hmm... something's happening today," Trevor murmured.

"No, you told me you don't need to do anything for the next two days," you said with a confused expression as you tried to get up. Trevor grabbed you by the arm and pulled you back down.

"I think you know exactly what we're doing today," Trevor breathed into your ear. "It's been a week since I got clean. You said you'd suck my dick."

"No, I said I'd _think_ about it," you said with a frown.

"Fine," Trevor huffed. "Let's just go fourwheeling instead, how about that?"

 _It beats him sitting around on his ass all day like he's been doing_ , you thought. "Yeah, sure. You got a fourwheeler?"

"That I diddly-do. It's outside; Ron gave it to me awhile back. How about we eat and shower first, then get on our way?" Trevor offered.

"Okay, as long as we aren't doing the showering together," you said hesitantly. He let go of your arm as you made your way into his dresser, pulled out a change of clothes you stored at his place, entered his bathroom, and turned the shower on. You'd been more or less alternating days between each other's trailers, which gave you the opportunity to keep his place nice and clean. 

You cringed in discomfort as you noticed the lack of both a curtain on his shower and a working lock on the sliding bathroom door. You propped the plunger against the flimsy door handle in hopes of discouraging any unwanted visitors and took your clothes off. _I'll make this quick._

You tested the water and found it to be lukewarm. You stepped in and examined the soap; to your disgust, there were stray hairs on the soap bar and a suspicious hole in the center. You decided it would be cleaner to simply wash your body off with water alone instead. As you closed your eyes and enjoyed the feeling of the water plinking against your skin, you didn't notice the door slide open.

"Did you touch my hole? Ugh, fuck, you have some nice tits," you heard from your right. You opened your eyes and turned your head to see Trevor staring at you, nearly salivating as he did so.

"Get out!" you shouted while covering yourself up.

"It feels like we've had this conversation before," Trevor huffed, "and we both know how _that_ ended."

You gritted your teeth in annoyance. "I want to shower in peace. Solo. By myself." 

"Fine, but only if you answer my question. Did you touch my hole?"

"I don't know what that means," you said, exasperated.

"The soap. Have you used the soap?"

"No," you said with a frown.

"Good. Gimme it." You picked it up with your thumb and index finger and tossed it to Trevor, who caught it enthusiastically. "You weren't supposed to see that. Let's pretend this whole interaction never happened."

"Sounds like a deal to me." After Trevor left the bathroom, you got out, dried off, and got decent. As you ate your breakfast, he snuck into the bathroom with his soap. You could hear him moaning something. 

"Oh-- gah, fuck, [Y/N]..." Trevor, from the sound of it, was most likely close to spreading his seed all over the soap, causing it to drip down the dirty-yet-clean hole. "I'm gonna cum! Oh, Jesus! Fuck, I love you! Oh! Oh, oh, oh, ooh..." 

Suddenly, you weren't so hungry. You threw what remained of your meal away; you'd call it breakfast, but it was nearly 3:00 in the afternoon. _I haven't even came since... fuck, I don't know,_ you realized in annoyance. _I've been too busy babysitting Trevor. How the fuck is that fair?_ Trevor came out of the bathroom with a pleased look on his face, much to your discomfort.

"All righty, you ready to go?" Trevor asked. It seemed as if he were unaware of how well his voice travelled while he was in the bathroom.

"Um, yeah, I'm ready," you said, caught off guard by the casualness of his demeanor.

"Follow me, m'lady!" _At least he's in a good mood...?_ Trevor led you outside to a small black Hot Rod Blazer decorated with flame patterns.

"Here awaits our chariot." He gestured to the fourwheeler. "It's technically only supposed to hold one person, but you can just hold on to me."

"Sounds like a plan." He got onto the Blazer, turned the ignition, and gave you the okay to hop on. You climbed behind him; you were snugly fit between his back and the seat with little room to spare. 

"I know just where we're gonna go. Hold on tight, I'd hate for you to fall off," he warned you. You gingerly wrapped your arms around him. He put his left hand on top of where your arms overlapped, keeping you steady as he drove onto the street using only his right arm. He was hitting the gas as hard as he possibly could; buildings whizzed by quicker than a blink of an eye as he drove the pair of you into the desert wasteland among Alamo Sea. 

"Here comes the first hill. You ready for a big jump?" he asked rhetorically. You squeezed around him tighter. "I'll take that as a 'yes'." You felt your stomach drop as the fourwheeler lost contact with the ground and began soaring through the air. You were five feet... no, ten feet... no, _fifteen_ feet or more off the ground! 

"Quit squeezing me, I won't be able to breathe soon," Trevor teased as he pressed his hand tighter against your arms. 

"Shit, I'm sorry," you said as you loosened your grip apologetically. The shock of the vehicle hitting the ground moved from your groin to your head. It felt a lot more erotic than you were expecting, and you let out a sharp exhale as the full intensity of the shaking and impact hit your clit. "Mmph- are all the hills gonna be like that?"

"Yeah. Why?" Trevor asked, turning his head ever-so-slightly so he could catch a glimpse of you out of the corner of his eye.

"It, uh, just wasn't anything I'm quite used to," you explained. _Well, it's not exactly a lie, per se..._

"Hmm," Trevor grunted. He shifted the direction of the vehicle so that you were heading toward the road. Once on the road, Trevor adjusted the vehicle so that the wheels were on the bumper strips. 

"Why are we on the bumper strips?" you asked Trevor. The bumps in the road were making the entire vehicle vibrate against your groin. In any other situation, you'd have been happy with the arousing feeling, but not while you were clinging on to the back of Trevor Philips for your life on a flame-painted fourwheeler. 

"Because I think it's fun," Trevor said. He turned his head again, this time making eye contact with you, and gave a devilish smirk.

"Oh, fuck you, get on the road," you huffed. _That bastard knows exactly what he's doing, doesn't he?_

"No can do, missy. This is an _off_ -roader, not an _on_ -roader. Besides, I think you're having the time of your life right now," Trevor stated. He reluctantly got off the bumper strips and crossed the road, now going to another set of dunes. The fourwheeler effortlessly climbed a massive hill with a steep drop-off, and you shrieked with combined fear and delight as you caught air again and soared to the ground. Trevor kept going for about a mile, hitting incline after incline, until he slowed down to a stop.

"I gotta stretch," Trevor murmured as he hopped off the seat and stretched his back out a small distance from you. You couldn't help but appreciate the muscles hidden beneath his wiry exterior. You couldn't help but think back to the night at Michael's house where you'd kissed and then some as you'd watched that stupid fucking movie. You were finally coming to terms with the fact that some insane, irrational part of your head had determined this insane, irrational man was attractive somehow. You'd fucked him, then kissed him, and now you were taking care of him. Maybe it was those things, maybe it was the desert sun, maybe it was the fact you hadn't orgasmed for a week, maybe it was the vibrational ride he'd taken you on that was making you feel so aroused. _Most likely a combination of all those,_ you thought as you eyed him.

"Are you still thinking about those bumper strips?" Trevor teased as he walked back toward you with a mischievous look in his eyes. You were still sitting on the Blazer.

"What's it to you?" you asked with a smirk, throwing him the same attitude he'd just given you.

"Because I know how much girls love the combination of those fourwheelers and bumps," he whispered in a low voice as he came even closer to you.

"I don't have any clue what you mean," you chuckled as you crossed your arms, knowing full damn well what he meant. 

"Ugh, you know-- the way the seat moves makes a girl feel a little happy in her joyful bits," Trevor explained. He was now less than a foot away from you peering down at your face with a hungry look deep in his eyes.

"I suppose I am," you said thoughtfully, standing up so you were now face-to-face with Trevor instead of face-to-thigh. 

"Yeah? What'd you think?" Trevor slipped an arm behind you onto the metal surface of the Blazer, pinning you between the fourwheeler and his chest. Butterflies began fluttering in your ribcage.

"I liked it."

"Wanna know what I'm thinking about right now?"

"Probably not, but I'm guessing you're gonna tell me no matter what I say."

"Yeah. You're right about that. I..." Trevor said, moving further forward so his body was touching yours, "... am thinking about that beautiful little sight I saw in the shower this morning. You, eyes closed, completely exposed..." He let out a slow, shaky sigh, gently pushing his groin against your leg. You could tell he had an erection already. "What are you thinking about?"

"I'm thinking about those kisses we had at Michael's house last week," you breathed. His face was now mere inches away from yours as he listened intently to every word you spoke. 

"What about 'em? You like 'em?"

"Yeah..."

"You want some more?"

You didn't give any verbal reply, you just reached a hand behind his head and pushed it forward so his face was against yours. He made the first move with his tongue and you followed quickly. Minus the buttery popcorn from last time, he tasted more or less the same. You'd forgotten how much he drooled when making out, though-- that you could do with less of. As your tongues danced with each other and got more and more entangled, Trevor's free arm moved to grab between your legs.

"I don't want to be touched there right now," you said as you pulled away. Truthfully, you did, but you didn't want to let Trevor think he'd won and spiral back into a relapse. _No sex until he's clean for a month_ , you promised yourself.

"Really? You, all alone with me, in the middle of nowhere?" Trevor groaned, taking your hand and pressing it forcefully against his crotch. "What about the implications?"

"Implications? The only implication I got was that we'd be fourwheeling." You exhaled heavily as your hand gently tightened against the erection he had in his pants. Your eyes flicked down to the clothed lump you had in your hand before looking back up into his eyes. 

"Your mouth language isn't matching up with your body language," Trevor said, softly moaning as you grabbed his penis through his clothes.

"Shut up and switch places with me," you grunted. Trevor wrapped his arms around you and forcefully spun you 180º so your positions were now reversed.

"I like it when a woman tells me what to do like that, [Y/N]," Trevor breathed. You maintained eye contact with him as you slowly got onto your knees and tugged his pants down. You smiled and softly chuckled as you took note of his neon rainbow briefs, then tugged them down and let his dick hit your face. 

You continued looking into his eyes as you spit in your hand and began rubbing his dick down. He leaned against the fourwheeler with his head tilted to the sun as he let out a whimper. You felt his dick twitching in anticipation as you jerked him off. You took your eyes off Trevor's face and focused them instead on the head right in front of you. You could already see a drop of precum eagerly forming at the tip. You moved your head past it so your mouth was against his balls and began moving your tongue from his balls to his shaft to his tip. As you slowly made your way, though, you had to stop. His cock had a weird, chemical-like, bitter taste to it.

"Trevor," you began, scraping your tongue against your teeth in an effort to get rid of the taste, "did you not wash the soap off your dick after you fucked the soap hole?"

"You don't wash soap off," Trevor scoffed as he looked down at you. "The longer the soap stays on you, the longer you're clean. Everybody knows that."

"Jesus, Trevor," you moaned. "Nobody says that. That's not how it works." The altercation was slightly off-putting, but you were still horny. You did your best to ignore the taste while making a mental note to teach him how to wash himself properly as you began bobbing your head up and down his dick.

"Oh, God, that's it," Trevor moaned, lacing his fingers into your hair to adjust your speed and depth. He began rapidly moving your head back and forth, occasionally pressing your head against his pelvis as forcefully as he could. Whenever he did this, you'd choke a little and moan in surprise, causing a chain reaction of making Trevor moan back at you but louder and pressing you into him even harder.

"Mm, fuck, I'm gonna cum," Trevor whispered in a falsetto tone. You pulled your head away from him just as long ribbons of seed shot out of him and hit your face. He let out a little shout with every pump of cum that came out.

"Fuck," you murmured as you wiped his cum off your face, "I thought you came, like thirty minutes ago."

"What can I say? I have a quick recharge time," Trevor said as he helped you up. He wrapped his arms around you and gave you a long kiss. "We should probably get back to your place now. And, uh, thank you."

As he drove the Blazer back to your trailer with you clinging onto him, you realized with a panic that what you'd just done was outside.

"Fuck, Trevor, what if somebody saw that?" you asked as panic swirled around your head. Somebody could have whipped their phone out and posted it on LifeInvader or something for everybody to see.

"Relax. Nobody goes out there. Do you have any clue how many bodies they'd've found out there if anyone _did_ go out there?" Trevor chuckled. "Besides, I kept an eye out while I was pokin' your eye out." He laughed at his own stupid joke. 

"If you insist. I'm going to drop off the face of the earth if it comes back to haunt me, though," you said. 

"Why would it haunt you? It's a fucking privilege to be at the end of my penis," Trevor said as he turned around with a frown on his face.

"That's not what I meant," you began quickly, hoping to diffuse his temper. "I just don't want my family to be scrolling mindlessly through social media and come across a video of me sucking a dick, you know? I'd be worried the same with any guy, it's not just you."

Trevor relaxed a little at your reassurances. "I suppose." The two of you got off the Blazer and went into your trailer. "I need to sleep again. Good night."

"Yeah, sleep well," you said as you went into your bathroom to shower for the second time that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for all the feedback! I thrive off comments and votes, and they inspire me to work quicker. I've also been wondering if you guys like the five chapters at a time release plan, or if it should be changed. If anybody has anything they want to request for this fanfic, feel free to ask!


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